Come What May
by Because Life
Summary: At McKinley High, Blaine is the most popular, the most feared. At home, he is abused and neglected, a nobody. Perfection drives him to please his violent father, but can a certain shy, modest boy show Blaine that he can be loved despite his flaws, and save him from the pain?
1. Abilities

**Chapter 1**

**Strengths**

"Come on, you bunch of amble-legged losers!" Sue yelled into her microphone. "Show me what you're capable of!"

The 'amble-legged losers' performed a series of handstands, cartwheels, and flips in the air that would make a gymnast green with envy. Blaine didn't know how much longer he could take- this was the Cheerios' toughest routine yet. Except for that time Coach Sylvester made them perform on sky-high tilts last year. It was like she _knew _some of them had a fear of heights.

"Pitiful!" Sue barked. "My grandma could do flips while skydiving when she was _78! _You're making her cringe in her grave _and_ up in heaven, you LOSERS!"

Blaine sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. Skydiving at 78 years old? Suuure. Grandma Sylvester must have called 'falling off the bed' skydiving.

"Now get into a pyramid!" Coach Sylvester bellowed on. "Go, go, GO!"

The Cheerios stealthily raised themselves up into their signature pyramid, each of them holding the other up by the ankles, up and up until there was only one person at the top. Which was, of course, Blaine. _Like a boss, _he thought, smirking.

"Now get into a handstand, Blaine!" Sue barked. She looked tiny, so far down, but her voice was loud enough to be carried to the next state. Or the other side of the world. Or the Land of Oz.

Yet Blaine, caught off guard, had to stutter a "w-_what?_"

"I SAID, GET. INTO. A HANDSTAND!" Sue screeched.

Blaine had stood at the top of the pyramid for countless, countless times, and had confidently looked straight ahead and felt absolutely fine. But now as he stared down at his coach, he felt his knees turn to Jell-O. Get into a handstand? Sue might as well have said to jump off the damn pyramid. No, the Empire State Building. _Okay, I know I'm incredibly talented and can do everything, _Blaine thought. _But this, _no one _can do._

"But I can't!" Blaine managed to shout down. "It's dangerous for me to get into a handstand at this drastic change of gravity!"

"BABY!" Becky screamed. Blaine shot daggers her way.

Sue shot daggers _his _way. "If that's so, Smarty-Pants Gay Anderson, then get your butt down here to the _bottom_ of the pyramid!"

"What?" Blaine cried, snapping his attention away from Becky. The rules of the pyramid were simple: if you sucked, you were at the bottom. If you were awesome (and the captain), you were at the top. Blaine knew he didn't suck. Plus, he didn't want to hold some girl's sweaty ankles that would stain his hand with tanning cream. And what if she was on her period? Blaine wrinkled his nose in disgust and stubbornly refused to get down.

"You know what," Sue growled finally. "_All_ of you get your butts down here."

The pyramid of Cheerios slowly detached itself to the ground. As they got into a line facing their coach, Santana nudged Blaine, snickering, "Sue's got it in for you."

Brittany poked him. "What did you do? Switch her tub of cocaine with protein powder?"

"Brittany, it _is _protein powder," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. Santana and Brittany were the only students at McKinley who he didn't mind poke fun at him. Anyone _else_ dare say something to Blaine Anderson though, and they're dead.

The Cheerios stood before Coach Sylvester, breathing hard, tired as hell. Sue's face was twisted into a snarl that showed no sign of vanishing. She sat there, one leg over the other, microphone in hand. Becky slouched next to her, giving everyone blank, bored stares behind her glasses. Under the intimidating glare of their coach, the cheerleaders crossed their arms nonchalantly as if the three grueling routines they'd performed in a row this afternoon didn't make them break a sweat.

Sue stared everyone down, not saying a word, until Becky blurted, "You guys were _boring._"

"Well put, Becky." Sue growled at the Cheerios, "You all disappointed me beyond words."

A murmur of disappointment rippled through the cheerleaders. This always _had _to happen. When they did their best, Sue still threw trash at them (metaphorically.) And when they did their worst- well, they were pretty sure Sue would throw trash at them _not_-so-metaphorically.

Coach Sylvester continued in a low, menacing voice, "This wasn't your first failed practice. And if it isn't your last-" she raised the microphone to her lips. "I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"

An uncomfortable silence passed until Blaine huffed, "What are we supposed to _do, _then?"

"Follow my orders!" Coach Sylvester barked. "Unlike _you!_ And you call yourself a captain? Next time you'll do as I say or I'll knock you right off that spot. Do you hear me?"

"_Yes,_" Blaine sighed.

"Now go and hit the showers! I don't want to smell the stench of your failures any longer!"

Blaine went off to the changing rooms, his head in the air, refusing to be humiliated. _Jeez Louise! _Sue was almost as bad as his father. As he went inside, his hip bumped into the door. It was only a little bump, but it irritated a bruise from the day before and made it burn with pain.

_His father. _Blaine shuddered, holding his bruised . _No one _could be as bad as his father.

* * *

"_Tonight,_" Rachel sang, leading the voices of the New Directions. "_We are young. So let's set the world on fire-_"

"_Fire!" _The New Directions harmonized.

"_We can burn brighter-_"

"_Brighter!_"

"_Than the sun…_"

Finn and Rachel stood at the center of the stage as they sang the song to a close. "_So if by the time, the bar closes, and you feel like falling down, I'll carry, you home, tonight…_"

The Glee club erupted into cheers. Everyone high fived each other, grinning from ear to ear, their laughs echoing through the auditorium.

"Great job, guys!" Mr. Schuester's happy voice rang above all the others, his claps never ceasing. "You performance was wonderful!"

"Thanks, Mr. Schue!" Rachel chirped. "We couldn't have done it without you!"

"Kiss-ass." Puck fake-coughed into his hand. Mike heard anyway and elbowed him. Puck rolled his eyes, but he, like everyone else, knew they couldn't have gone this far without their teacher.

"So what do you say?" Will asked everybody, rubbing his hands together. "Do you think we've found our song for Sectionals?"

The New Directions gave another cheer while Rachel jumped up and down, clapping her hands, obviously thrilled she got a big solo.

Kurt smiled. Sectionals was months away, yet it was so hard _not _to stay positive when you were in Glee club. Except- of course- when someone was fighting for solos (Rachel,) stealing girlfriends (Puck,) trying to destroy the club (Coach Sylvester,) making rude comments (Santana,) or the happening of any usual drama amongst the New Directions.

But through everything from bitch-slaps to losing competitions, they always managed to repair the damage in the end- together. Now, after coming 11th place in last year's Nationals, everyone has come back determined that they win _1__st__ place_ this time. And everyone has come back determined that they _will_.

"See you all next week!" Mr. Schuester called.

Everybody began filing out of the auditorium, talking amongst themselves.

"We should go to Asian couples therapy," Mike sighed to Tina.

"Why does the couples therapy have to be _Asian?_" Tina shot back exasperatedly.

"Since when did Pippi Longstocking join the New Directions?" Brittany muttered to Santana.

"Brittany, that's Rachel in a denim dress," Santana smirked.

"Hey!" Finn interjected. "Don't make fun of my girlfriend, she's cool!"

"Finn! That's an insult!" Brittany gasped, horrified.

"Dude, your impressions are weird," Puck was telling Sam.

"_You don't say?" _ Sam drawled in Nicholas Cage's voice. A beat later, he looked thoroughly confused. "Wait a minute, did I just insult myself?"

Kurt pushed through the auditorium doors and walked down the hallway, keeping his head down. People catching the late bus hurried past him, deep in conversations, but Kurt just kept himself to himself. He reached his locker and pulled out a can of hairspray, carefully coating his head with a fine layer. Overly-active Glee practices was sometimes too much for his hair.

"Hey Kurt!" said a bright voice behind him.

Kurt turned around. "Oh, hey Rachel."

"Sooo I'm going on a date with Finn and I need your fashion advice!" she warbled, looking excited.

"Okay, okay," Kurt said calmly. He put the hairspray in his locker before turning back to survey Rachel. She was wearing a denim dress over a white collared shirt and stripy leggings, with her hair tied in two tight braids. It took all his willpower not to grimace. She _did _look like Pippi Longstocking.

"I'm sorry, Rachel, but you're going to have to lose the whole outfit," Kurt told her timidly. He tried not to be too mean with his criticisms- hurting anyone's feelings didn't really make him feel good with himself. "Try on a dress- but not too patterned. Preferably black, it'll slim you down. Not that you're fat, of course. And the stockings… um… no. As for your shoes, please find anything that matches. Also, unbraid your hair. Blow dry to give it volume."

Rachel had listened with her head to the side, and when Kurt finished, she pouted. "Are you _sure _about losing the whole outfit? I got this at a thrift shop for _discount!_"

"Well…" Kurt shrugged slightly. "I mean it's not bad…" _Yeah right. _"But you could do with something better."

Rachel's pout turned into a smile. "Thanks, Kurt! A fashionista _could _make sacrifices, can't she?"

_Sacrifices? _Kurt couldn't help but smile at her obliviousness.

"Now what do you say we shop for that new dress you were talking about?" Rachel continued giddily.

"I'd love that." Kurt nodded, smiling back. He got his bag out of the locker and shut it, then made his way out with Rachel by his side.

Sometimes, when Rachel's not in some stroppy fit over not getting a solo or crying over Finn (again,) she was Kurt's best friend. But second to his father, of course.


	2. Weaknesses

**Chapter 2**

**Weaknesses**

_Clunk. _Blaine unlocked the door to his home, heart hammering, breath quickening. His gaze reluctantly turned towards the coat rack. There it was. The jacket that indicated that '_he' _was home.

The only sound existing was Blaine's shoes tapping against the hardwood floor and the swearing under his breath. He braced himself for the worst as he cautiously stepped into the living room.

The _empty _living room.

Blaine felt his heart slightly relax, and he breathed out, glad nobody was there. '_He' _was still somewhere in the house though, and if Blaine shut himself in his room fast enough, he wouldn't have to be confronted. But as he crossed the room to the staircase, he tripped on some fallen object on the floor.

_What the hell? _He thought, bending down to inspect it. How _dare _that thing interrupt his grand escape, God damn it?

Blaine's heart dropped to his stomach, cold and heavy like a stone. It was a beer bottle. A very _empty _beer bottle. He straightened up with sudden difficulty, his joints feeling rusted. There were bottles placed haphazardly on the table. A lone bottle on the windowsill. Another one thrown carelessly on the couch. All the same beverage, and all equally empty.

'_He' _had been drinking again. This was bad. This was very, _very _bad.

Not caring whether he sounded like there was an elephant stampeding the living room, Blaine bolted towards the staircase and took two steps at a time, shoes hammering against the floor. Why did he have to come home so early? Why hadn't he camped out at the Lima Bean, sipping medium drip coffee until his friends were all gone? Why hadn't he just ran away, for God's sake?

Truth was, something was holding him back. Something he was ashamed of and tried to bury deep, deep down. Yet, it was uncovered every time he came home and saw that jacket on the coat rack or alcohol bottles in the house. _Fear_.

"Stop right there."

Blaine wanted to grow wings, fly upstairs and lock himself in his room with a high-tech security system and fifty different locks. But his back remained wingless. His feet stayed rooted to the ground. The door to his bedroom still had only one keyhole. Blaine grew white. He tried not to imagine what was next as he turned towards the voice.

There '_he' _was. A man, still wearing his business suit, now crumpled and missing a tie. A man, with bloodshot eyes and a stormy, snarling expression. A man, with the same curly hair and bushy eyebrows Blaine had. A _drunk _man, who took a sloppy swig from the alcohol bottle in his hands. People knew this man as Devon Anderson, a put-together and friendly businessman who led conferences and successful firms. But at home, Blaine knew _this_- this _monster. _

"I watched you at practice today," Mr. Anderson said in an oily, ominous voice. One of his eyes twitched.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. _A hundred panicking thoughts went through Blaine's head as fast as motor cars on a racetrack. He gripped the banister hard, sure he was going to hyperventilate.

Mr. Anderson took another gulp from his drink and slammed it hard on the table, making the other bottles shake. "You… _sucked._" He spat, slurring on his words.

Sue's voice echoed into Blaine's head. '_If that's so, Smarty-Pants Gay Anderson, then get your butt down here to the _bottom _of the pyramid! ' _The knot in his stomach grew tighter, so tight he couldn't breathe. He had been bashed and his father _witnessed _it.

Blaine tentatively took a step back. "I…" _Say you have homework! _The voice in his head urged. _Just make something up! _But the words were lodged inside his throat.

"No, no, no." Mr. Anderson shook his head slowly. "Come here. You and Daddy need to have a little…" he rubbed his hands together, a menacing smirk forming on his face. "…_talk._"

_A talk, huh? _Blaine thought spitefully. He looked up behind him- just a few more steps and he would be upstairs. Safe. Man, how he loved that word. Then Blaine's feet moved on their own, quickly and clumsily, eager to get to the landing. Just a few more-

_Thunk. _A white-hot pain spread across Blaine's face, like he'd been slapped. He gasped for breath and lifted himself off the floor, gripping the banister as the world spun around him. The hand that had been tightened around his ankle- and had yanked him to the ground- transferred to the collar of Blaine's shirt. He was lifted up roughly and carelessly to the level of his father's face, twisted with rage. He was so close Blaine could smell the beer on his breath. It made his stomach churn.

_Clang. _The banister rang as Mr. Anderson smashed his son's head against it. Blaine gasped, seeing stars dance in front of his blurred vision. He turned his face away, trying to get a hold of his bearings.

"Look at me!" shouted Devon, clenching his hand around Blaine's jaw and turning it to face him. His eyes glared straight through his soul, beady and unpromising. "If you want to stay captain, you can't suck!" _Punch. _"If you want to get into a good college, you can't suck!" _Slap. _"But if you want to make your Daddy embarrassed, you _CAN _suck! AND THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID!" with a final, excruciatingly painful blow, Mr. Anderson shoved Blaine to the ground and stood up, looking down at him like he was muck stuck to his shoe.

Blaine's head was ringing with pain and his father's screams. He breathed heavily, shuddering, curling up into a ball. Hurt. Beaten. Defeated. Yet again.

"_Pathetic._" Mr. Anderson gave his son a final kick before heading downstairs again.

Blaine closed his eyes as the footsteps faded and a door slammed downstairs, relief flooding through his veins. The monster was gone.

* * *

As soon as Kurt stepped in his home, he was greeted with the scent of lavender air freshener and the sounds of the TV blaring. It sounded like a football match was on.

"Hey dad," Kurt said warmly, coming in the living room. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm still as sick as a diabetic buffalo, but definitely better," answered Burt Hummel. He was wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, remote on one side of him, a tissue box on the other.

"Have you had your medicine?" Kurt asked worriedly as his father let out a string of coughs.

"How do you expect me to remember when my favorite team is kicking butt against-"

"Oh _dad_." Kurt went in the kitchen and took out a box of pills and a glass of water. "Here," he said, handing them to Burt.

"Thanks, kid," he said, popping a pill in his mouth and chugging the water down. "Finn and Carole shouldn't have gone to the market and left me to take care of myself, eh?"

Kurt chuckled. The commentary for the football game yelled, '_AND- AND- GOAAAAAAAL!'_

"YES!" Burt shouted, then immediately started coughing again.

Kurt, perched on the arm of the sofa, patted his back.

"You know, Kurt," Mr. Hummel said after he'd cleared his throat. "Now that Elizabeth's gone, I'm glad I still have you."

Kurt sighed distantly, sadly remembering his mother. Her kind, smiling face, the feel of her soft cardigan against his cheek, her soft voice reading him bedtime stories, her lavender perfume. It was depressing to think that one car crash- and that was all gone. But she was still there with him: whenever he looked in the mirror, he saw her sky-blue eyes, and whenever he sang, he heard her voice. They had Finn and Carole now, but Elizabeth still remained in that special place in their hearts.

Without saying a word, Kurt sat next to his father, picked up his issue of Vogue and propped his feet on the table. Father and son sat there in a peaceful silence, the only noise heard was the (rather aggressive) football commentary and the flicking of magazine pages.


	3. What Started it All

**Chapter 3**

**What Started it All**

Blaine stormed into the math classroom and flopped down on a chair, feeling like crap from the beating he got yesterday. He had concealed any cuts, scrapes and bruises with foundation (call him a girl, I dare you) but nothing could cover up the freaking _tumor _inhis _brain_. As you can guess, Blaine wasn't in a good mood. At _all. _

Miss McAuley, the math teacher, began handing out the pupils' marked tests. She was thin, weedy, and had a pinched face and chipmunk-y features, hence the buck-teeth. She wore the same drab, faded, squirrel-embroidered sweater almost every day. When she was explaining something- _anything- _no matter how exciting it is, Miss McAuley always managed to make it sound so… _yaaawwn… _boring. She was the butt of everyone's jokes, most of all Blaine's of course. When he was a freshman he nicknamed her the Buck-Toothy-Idiot-Squirrel-Woman. It's not like he was lying or anything.

In a voice that was slower than Microsoft Vista 2006, Miss McAuley drawled, "This mark will affect your grade, everybody."

_Stop talking and give me my paper, bitch, _Blaine thought crossly, drumming his fingers against the desk. Someone had sloppily etched '_I like pie lul' _into it. _Lame_.

Miss McAuley crept by, smelling like burnt toast, and dropped a paper onto Blaine's desk. Even though he knew he aced the exam, he grabbed it and checked his grade. There it was, scrawled in red ink at the top of the exam. It wasn't an A. It wasn't an A+. It wasn't even an A-. It was- it was- a _B. _A red and flashy B, big, bold and practically screaming, "LOOK AT MEEEE!"

Blaine stared at it with horror until the paper blurred into a smudge of white, black and red. He tried not to imagine what his father would do when he read his report. _You little shit, _he looked at the B with disgust. _I am _not _going to let you ruin my life. _

Blaine stood up abruptly. "Buck-Toothy-Id- er, Miss McAuley?"

Miss McAuley, who was about to go through the questions in the exam, looked at Blaine quizzically. "Yeeees?"

"See this?" Blaine pointed to the grade on his paper. "I believe you made a mistake. It should say an _A. _Not a _B._"

"No it should not," said Miss McAuley. "The number of correct answers you presented in your exam added up to a B."

"Uh, _hello?_" Blaine waved the paper around. "In case you've forgotten_, _I'm awesome and top of your class. You've just marked unfairly." Students weren't really supposed to talk to their teachers like that, but who cared?

Miss McAuley narrowed her eyes. "Mr. Anderson, can you sit down please?"

"Um- _no,_" Blaine rolled his eyes. "Seriously? Come on, you can't give me an unfair grade and boss me around as well. Now that is _really _low." By now every pair of eyes in the classroom flitted between him and Miss McAuley like it was a tennis match.

Miss McChipmunk pointed to the wall on the far left. "Mr. Anderson, go outside and stand on the other side of that wall."

Blaine laughed maliciously. "Oh come on," he spat. "You can't tell me what to do like I'm your kid." He added, "Oh wait. You're not married. _Loner_."

The class began to titter. Some pulled out their phones and began typing furiously- in a few minutes this would be all over Twitter and Facebook. As if Blaine cared. Right now, he didn't care about _anything _except getting a good grade and making his father proud.

Miss McAuley looked like she'd been slapped. "Mr. Anderson-"

"OH MY GOD, JUST GIVE ME THAT DAMN A!" Blaine yelled exasperatedly. Goodness gracious, this woman was doing his head in.

"Blaine! Principle's office! _Now!_" Miss McAuley said sharply for the first time ever.

Great.

(A/N) I'd like to dedicate this first part of the chapter to Cat and Alice! Guys, I hope I captured the essence of Mr. McAuley into his future- and rather fictional- wife, _Miss _McAuley. For those of you who don't know, Mr. McAuley is our ACTUAL math teacher! And yes, he _does _look like a chipmunk, speaks slower than a sloth and sends kids to 'stand on the other side of the wall.' I don't blame him. Our class is as annoying as hell. NOW ENJOY THE REST OF THE CHAPTER!

* * *

Blaine crossed his arms and looked sulkily at Mr. Figgins as he lectured him on manners in the classroom and bla bla bla, everything being said going over Blaine's head. _This is _such _a waste of time, _he thought grumpily.

When Mr. Figgins finally finished Blaine snapped, "Can I go now?"

Mr. Figgins laced his hands together. "I'm sorry, but not until you get punishment for what you did."

_Oh come on._

"Blaine, I am disbanding you from the Cheerios."

Blaine's mouth dropped open. "What the _hell?_"

"And you will be put into the Glee club instead."

"Are my ears deceiving me?" Blaine clenched the arms of the brown leather chair he was sitting on. "You- are sending me- to the _Glee club?_"

"Think of it as an opportunity to expand your range of talents!" Mr. Figgins told him eagerly.

"But Glee club is for losers!" Blaine wailed. "All they ever do is prance around singing Journey like, _look at me, I have this extremely annoying wide-eyed keen approach on life! _WELLSO WHAT?"

"Listen, this punishment is not permanent. You could go back to the Cheerios once you learn to contain your temper, Blaine! But from Monday on, Glee club."

"But-"

"Any more buts from you and I'll be calling your father in. Understand?" Mr. Figgins told him sternly.

Blaine felt his heart sink. "Fine," he growled, clenching his fists.

"Excellent!" Mr. Figgins beamed. "I'll be looking forward to you out of your Cheerios uniform then!"

Blaine stormed out of his office thinking, _I'll be looking forward to wearing it at your near _funeral_._

* * *

_Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. _Coach Sylvester was polishing her 1st Place National Cheerleading Competition trophy to the point where she could see her reflection. When you have a million of those babies like she did, it's not that hard to do.

Blaine stomped in with a red box in his hands and moodily dropped it onto Sue's desk. "Here's my uniform."

Sue looked up from her trophy and glared at him. "So why the hell aren't you wearing it, Broccoli Head? Has the amount of hair-gel you slather on every morning finally seeped into your brain?"

Blaine crossed his arms over his gym shirt he'd changed into after school. "I yelled at Miss McAuley for unfairly grading my math test. Then Figgins told me I was disbanded from the Cheerios and put into the Glee club until I can control my temper."

Coach Sylvester threw her polishing rag on her desk and snarled, "You have got to be kidding me. I lose my captain because of some stupid _math_ _test?_ BECKY!"

Becky waddled in. "Yeth coach?"

"Bring me some cement in a hair-gel bottle for our ex-captain here."

Blaine self-consciously touched his hair, alarmed. "What? No-!"

"_ex-captain?_" Becky screamed, kicking his shin.

"_Ow!_" Blaine yelped. "Coach, you're acting like I _want _to go to Glee club instead!"

"_Glee club?_" Becky screamed, and kicked his shin again.

Blaine rubbed the sore spot, snarling. "You little sh-"

"Becky, no more kicking," Sue told her. "You don't want to damage those 200 dollar sneakers with Gay Anderson's fluid-stained pants, do you?"

Blaine ignored her insult and huffed, "Really Coach, I'll come back to the Cheerios once Figgins lets me off the hook. I _promise._"

"Well get off the hook fast or you're _permanently _off the Cheerios, do you hear me?" Sue snapped. " And Becky, you're captaining now."

"Woohoo!" Becky whooped. "Check me out, bitches!"s

Sue turned to her former captain. "Now get out of my office!"

_Gladly, _Blaine thought, turning on his heel and stalking out.

Becky took the box with his uniform in it and smacked his backside with absolutely no regrets.

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving!" Blaine yelped. When Sue was back to polishing her trophies and had her head bowed, he peeked around the doorframe and made violent slicing motions across his neck at Becky.

"I saw that!" Sue snapped. Becky grinned.

Oops_. _


	4. It's Not Unusual- Or Is It?

**Chapter 4**

**It's Not Unusual- Or Is It?**

"The fuck are _you _staring at?" Blaine snapped to a group of freshman. They cowered under his glare and scurried off to band practice or chess-group or whatever lame-ass club they attended. _Losers._

Not that Blaine was being hypocritical as he headed to the choir room. Pfft. _Totally not._

Speaking of Glee club, Mr. Anderson hadn't reacted _too _badly at the fact that his son was placed into some twee, pathetic little show choir. Maybe it was because Blaine had lied about the math test ("I got an A,") said that Figgins just wanted him to "expand his talents" by going to Glee club and that the variety of activities would look good on his college application. His father had spat some rather hurtful words that included "sissy" and "a failure," but other than that Blaine had narrowly escaped getting _physically_ hurt. _Phew_.

Just because he had avoided the drama at home didn't mean he hadn't hoped that the drama at school would cease. As he walked to school this morning, Blaine was vexed by the thought of everyone's malicious whispers, horrifying rumors, even the _teachers', _all following him around like an eager Labrador with a bad 'd all hear about how he was taken off the cool and popular Cheerios and put in the nerdy Glee club. Miss McAuley would vent about him to other teachers in the staff room, who would get mad and give him _more _than one B. People would laugh at him. People would make fun of him. People would _slushy _him. He'd be classified as one of the misfit outcasts. Never wear his Cheerios uniform again. Grow pimples. Suddenly wake up in the morning to have a beard like Mr. O'Hagen's, their homeless-looking chemistry teacher who always walked in the hallway humming, "dum de dum, de dum, de dum." _Shudder._

But then Blaine had shaken his head slowly. His scowl had turned into a smirk. A snicker had escaped him. Soon he had been shaking with laughter at the image of him walking through McKinley High in Mr. O'Hagen's balloon-like body "dum de dum, de dum, de dum"-ing. _Of course _he wasn't going to turn into some unpopular castaway! Just because the Buck-Toothy-Idiot-Squirrel-Woman gave him a B and got yelled at for it didn't mean his other teachers would too. And just because Blaine wasn't wearing his Cheerios uniform didn't mean that he still wasn't cool, smart and popular. And hey, he was the only one in school who made suspenders and a bow tie look far from nerdy.

Blaine was right. Everyone had stared at him and whispered, but he'd shut them up quick. Some teachers had shot him anxious glances but he aired them away with confidence and correct answers. Good. _No one _messed with him, and certainly not today.

"Welcome back to Glee club, guys!" a chipper voice said within the choir room as Blaine approached. "Today we-"

"Hello, my name is Blaine Anderson and I am here to audition," he interrupted loudly, striding inside with his head in the air.

The level of volume fell to a hushed silence. Blaine crossed his arms and looked across the room, his expression saying, '_and?_' There was Brittany and Santana, smirking at him. Finn, Puck and Mike, who were on the football team, were there too. Quinn, a former Cheerio who had switched to the dark side (Glee club,) sat on her own. But the rest? Blaine knew their names, but no way in hell were they the type of people he'd want to hang out with: Rachel reminded him of Overly Attached Girlfriend, Sam's lips looked like he recently had Botox, Artie was cursed with a wheelchair and-even worse- hipster glasses, Sugar sounded as if she had inhaled helium, and Tina most likely had bats under her goth-zilla dress. Blaine was missing the Cheerios already.

At the front of the choir room, a man in a sweater vest and loafers turned around to face him. Blaine almost huffed out, "_seriously?_" Mr. Schuester, the History teacher (formerly a shitty Spanish one,) boyfriend of the OCD-ridden guidance counselor Miss Pillsbury, a big sweater vest addict and an even bigger lard- er, perming product- addict, was coaching the Glee club. Other show choir groups had amazing and professional coaches that made them _winners_, take Vocal Adrenaline. But _no, _New Directions had Mr. Meat-Casserole Hair. And who the hell names their group 'New Directions?' _So _cheesy_._

"Yes, of course, Blaine!" Mr. Schuester told the conceited boy brightly, sounding a little surprised. "Ready when you are!"

Blaine walked to the center of the choir room and whipped off his yellow Ray-Bans. He was going to knock the socks off these losers.

"_It's not unusual to be loved by anyone,_" he started confidently, his voice ringing out through the choir room. Damn, seeing those shocked faces was extremely satisfying. Brittany gave him a thumbs-up.

Just like that, the band at the far side of the choir room started to jam out to Tom Jones' 'It's not Unusual' like they knew Blaine was going to sing that all along.

"_It's not unusual to have fun with anyone,_" he continued. _Okay, number one, I feel like the band had been stalking me, _Blaine thought. "_But when I see you hanging about with anyone…_" _Number two, did they live in the choir room? _"_It's not unusual to see me cry…_" _Number three, I'm kicking ass at this audition. "I wanna die." No I don't. I'm awesome._

"All right!" Mr. Schuester cried over the applause of the New Directions as Blaine finally hit the last note. "Glee club, welcome your newest member, Blaine Anderson!"

Blaine, proud of himself, strode over and sat next to Santana and Brittany like he'd been in the Glee club since forever.

"Are you Orville Redenbacher?" Brittany asked him immediately as Mr. Schuester made his way up to the whiteboard.

"Britney, I'm Blaine," he said, rolling his eyes.

Santana smacked his arm. "You have my warmest welcomes."

"Yeah, _totally _warm," Blaine scoffed, rubbing the sore spot. "Tell me again why you and Brittany are in here. Did you yell at a teacher too?"

"We're in here because we _want _to be, Sherlock Sourpuss," Santana snapped. "If you actually gave this club a chance you'd find it was actually not big of a deal."

"_Mrow,_" Brittany muttered.

"Okay, everybody!" Mr. Schuester interrupted, clapping his hands together.

Blaine was about to throw Santana a cutting remark of his own when all attention snapped to Mr. Schuester. He had uncapped his marker and wrote 'DUETS' in huge letters on the board.

"It's officially duet week," he announced. "You get to pair up with anybody you like, sing anything you like and if you win…" Mr. Schuester reached in his pocket and held up two coupons, smiling. "The lucky pair gets a free dinner each at Breadsticks."

Blaine listened with disgust, not seeing why everyone was murmuring excitedly. _Coupons? Really? _He thought. _What a cheap-ass._

"So get pairing, everyone!" Mr. Schuester finished off with a flourish.

"You're gonna have to find your own partner," Santana said to Blaine as she grabbed Britney's hand and pulled her to her feet. "It's gonna be no use anyway, 'cause me and my girl are going to Breadsticks!" she singsonged haughtily, dragging Britney away.

"Sorry, Orville!" Brittany called over her shoulder.

Blaine huffed and dropped back onto his seat, rolling his eyes. _Now _who was he going to have to sing with?

"And then, after we finished dinner, we could go to my uncles private yacht, and then, after that…" Sugar sat on the lap of a very pleased Artie, twirling her hair and excitedly planning their excursions.

"Finally!" Tina told Mike exasperatedly. "If we win this, we get to go on a _proper_ date!"

Mike looked at her quizzically. "Don't we always go on proper dates?"

"PROPER DATES DON'T INCLUDE EATING DIM SUM WITH YOUR MOM!" Tina exploded.

"Sam, I would really appreciate it if you would-" Quinn started.

"_AH! THE BEES! NOT THE BEES!_" Sam gave an exaggerated impression of Nicholas Cage. Again.

"Stop. Your. Impressions." Quinn finished with gritted teeth.

Rachel grabbed Finn's hand. "Listen, I have a plan. If we want to go to Breadsticks, the only way we'll win is if _I _do all the singing and you just sway in the background. Okay?"

Finn blinked. "Um… just a second." He turned to Puck in an attempt to ignore Rachel's suggestion. "Hey, who are you paired with?"

"Mercedes, definitely," Puck said in a satisfied tone.

"But isn't she absent?"

"Whatever, I'll just call her up. And if we end up getting those coupons, I'll give them all to her- hey, she loves food, right?- and then she'll be so happy that I'll get _laid_," he leaned back in his chair with a proud smile on his face. "Boo yeah."

All the while, Blaine sat rigid on his seat, absolutely revolted. Good God, why did he have to be in the sameroomas these weirdos? Why did he have to share the air they were breathing? Why didn't he just say, "fuck it" and go back to the Cheerios?

Blaine groaned and dropped his head in his hands. Because life.

(A/N) I just realized how fun it was to put teachers I have at school in my story! Yes, real-life Mr. O'Hagen does indeed look like a hobo and hums that same song over and over again. ANYWAY, I'd really love it if you guys leave suggestions to what songs you would like any characters in this fanfic to sing. I don't care whether they were even sung in the history of Glee or not, just leave 'em!


	5. With Or Without You, My Life Sucks

**Chapter 5**

**With or Without You, My Life Sucks**

Kurt stared at his pale hands folded on his lap, nervous. Number 1, Mercedes hadn't come to school today; number 2, Puck has already deemed her worthy to be his partner and; number 3, Kurt would have asked for her back if he wasn't so… socially awkward. Yeah. That described him a little too perfectly.

So _now _who was he going to have a duet with? He bit his lip and anxiously looked around the room: everyone seemed to have found a partner and was discussing what songs they were going to do.

"I was thinking," Sam was telling Quinn. "You could put lyrics to the Star Wars theme song while I come in dressed as Darth Vader and do an impression, like-"

"No, no, no!" Quinn held her palms up, torn between exasperation and bursting into laughter. "That is the stupidest thing ever! And _no _impressions- _please!_"

"I can't sing," Mike admitted lamely to Tina.

"How are we supposed to win this _duet_ competition if you _can't sing?_" Tina huffed.

"We'll… figure something out…?"

Okay, maybe not _everyone_ has found someone to sing with. A boy sat on his own in a chair on the other side of the choir room, his arms crossed and a sour look on his face. Blaine Anderson. Kurt had heard a lot of stories about him: he was top of every class, member of the student council, and leader of the yearbook committee. Yet he had a sharp tongue, a hot temper, an inflated ego and… he got into fights with math teachers. Mhm, _very _nice.

"Blaine!" Mr. Schuester then called, as if on cue. "Who's your partner?"

"Me," Blaine said stubbornly.

"You're doing a duet with yourself?" Santana piped up. "Isn't that, like, vocal masturbation?"

"Enough!" Mr. Schuester said firmly. "Blaine, you will be partnered with Kurt, alright?"

_My partner's a good singer, but not a friendly one, _Kurt thought anxiously.

_Who the fuck is Kurt? _Blaine thought quizzically.

"Okay everyone-" Mr. Schuester started once everyone had calmed down.

"As you all know," Rachel interrupted, getting out of her seat and prancing towards the middle of the choir room like she's the shit. "We've been rehearsing a number these past days and-"

"How about you shut up and let the man speak?" Blaine spat. Even though he found Mr. Schuester annoying, Rachel was ten times worse. Oh sorry, that was an understatement.

"Excuse me Blaine, but as fellow members of the Glee club it is highly advisory you don't disturb me during my very important announcements," Rachel told him in a prissy voice.

"Do you _know_ who you're talking to?" Blaine growled, standing up.

"Blaine, just leave it," Mr. Schuester said calmly. _How_ could _he?_ "Rachel, continue." _What an ass!_

Santana pulled him back down and hissed, "She makes me want to strangle her too, okay?" Blaine scowled and crossed his arms.

Rachel pursed her lips and continued, "Before I was so rudely interrupted-"

"Hypocrite," Puck muttered. He and Blaine exchanged a smirk.

His remark went unheard. "-I would like to say that we have put together a number just for _you_, Mr. Schue!" Rachel squealed as everyone got off their seats and began assembling themselves at the front of the choir room. Mr. Schuester stood to the side, looking thoroughly pleased.

Blaine realized with horror what these losers were about to do. They were going to _sing. _

"_Guess this means you're sorry, you're standing at my door,_" Rachel sang- the lead, obviously. Blaine's headache was getting worse. "_Guess this means you take back what you've said before._"

"_Like how much how you wanted anyone but me,_" Finn sang next. Girls might swoon at his slightly gravelly voice and call it sexy, but really, to Blaine's ears it sounded like Finn had his throat raked with a fork. "_Said you'd never come back, but here you are again…_"

And that's when the worst thing happened. All of them started singing. ALL OF THEM.

"_Cause we belong together now, yeah! Forever united here somehow, yeah!_" The New Directions sang with all their heart and started doing some light choreography that was just fooling around. Except for Artie- who wheeled around happily, looking like an idiot. "_You've got a peace of me, and honestly! My life- my life! Would suck- would suck! WITHOUT YOU!_"

_Oh my God get me out of here! _Blaine thought with horror. He glanced at Mr. Schuester, who was smiling proudly and clearly enjoying the show. _What the hell, is this Glee club or Turn-Mr. Lardy Locks-Into-A-Pedophile club? Disgusting. _

"_Maybe I was stupid for telling you goodbye,_" Quinn started the second verse. Blaine wondered when the last time she blew her nose was. "_Maybe I was wrong for trying to pick a fight._"

"_I know that I've got issues, but you're pretty messed up too,_" Sam followed. _Who does he think he is, the next Justin Beiber? _Blaine thought nastily. "_Either way I've found out I'm nothing without you…_"

They burst into the chorus again. Blaine wanted to throw a chair and walk straight out- but he knew that would give him _no _chance of returning to the Cheerios again. Man, how he wished to be doing cheerleading drills and routines while listening to Coach Sylvester's beautiful voice screaming at him. He wouldn't even mind being at the bottom of the pyramid. (Okay, he _would_, but still…)

"_Being with you is so dysfunctional,_" sang an unfamiliar voice, light and soft.

Blaine looked curiously at the singer, who had been standing completely obscured at the back until now. He was wearing red jeans, a white collared t-shirt and a colorful scarf that Blaine recognized as Alexander McQueen's. He had pale skin, pink lips and perfectly coiffed hair. Even though he knew every single individual in McKinley High, surprisingly Blaine didn't recognize him. _Or is it a her? _Blaine thought rudely. He bit his lip, feeling a little guilty as the boy glanced right at him, then timidly looked away as if he knew what Blaine was thinking. Wait, why was he feeling guilty? Insulting people was practically his hobby. Blaine pushed all shamefaced feelings away and thought ruthlessly, _yup, definitely a girl._

"_I really shouldn't miss you, but I can't let you go, yeah._" As soon as Kurt finished his solo he ducked his head and went behind everyone again as they moved on to the chorus. There were butterflies in his stomach. How? Whenever he performed he felt at home. Was it the fact that Blaine was staring at him? It made Kurt feel slightly uneasy.

Blaine had to suffer from _two _rounds of the chorus before the Glee club finally finished. He breathed a huffy sigh of relief as the New Directions high-fived one another like they just won the lottery or something.

"All right!" Mr. Schuester laughed, clapping his hands. "That was awesome, everybody! Thank you so much!"

Blaine almost gagged.

_RIIIIIIIIING!_

The bell signaling the end of the day rang almost as shrilly as Sugar's voice. Yet Blaine was never so glad to hear it.

"Thank God," he grumbled, heading towards the exit.

An arm looped around his. "Not so fast, Mr. Sourpuss!" came Santana's voice.

Blaine turned to her and snapped, "Santana, will you stop calling me-"

"You're coming with us, Unicorn!" Brittany looped her own arm around the Boy-With-The-Designer Scarf's, who looked completely confused.

"Huh?" his gaze switched from Brittany to Santana to Blaine before dropping to the floor.

Santana took Brittany's hand and began marching everyone to the exit. "Kurt and Blaine, we are going to spend a fabulous gay time at the Lima Bean."

Oh, so _he _was Kurt. A very _gay _Kurt. And Blaine was supposed to sing with him.


	6. 2 Cups of Coffee

**Chapter 6**

**2 Cups of Coffee**

"And I'm like, 'Lord Tubbington's dreams will come true,' so I fed him Mountain Dew to see if he would grow wings, like in the advert." Brittany took a sip of her latte before setting her cup down, looking disappointed. "Instead he became gaseous for a week. I was so, so sad."

"Uh huh…" Blaine looked at her queerly.

"Brittany, it's _Red Bull _that gives you wings," Santana snapped, but she showed a hint of a smile.

Hope descended on Brittany's face. "So Lord Tubbington _could _fly after all?"

"I don't think so." Santana grabbed Brittany's hand and pulled her to her feet. "Now if you two will excuse us, Brit and I are going to the ladies'."

With a glower, Blaine watched them saunter off towards the bathrooms, weaving through tables and pushing past everyone like they ditched their friends everyday.

The four of them had just arrived about twenty minutes ago, ordered their drinks and plopped down in an empty booth.

"Okay," Santana had immediately said. "Kurt, this is Sourpuss Blaine Arrogant Anderson-"

Kurt had anxiously toyed with his Styrofoam coffee cup while Blaine grit his teeth and shot his so-called friend a killing look.

Santana of course didn't care. "And Blaine, this is Introvert Kurt Flutterhy-the-Pony Hummel."

Kurt's face turned red and he whispered, "Santana." Blaine didn't know whether to scowl- _Santana's going too far, and anyway, insulting people was _my _thing- _or guffaw- _she called him a _pony _for God's sake! _Instead he sighed, rolled his eyes and suggested they discuss songs already.

Kurt sat in complete silence for the entire time Santana was talking up a storm about different artists, tunes and how she and Brittany were going to kick ass at the competition. From time to time she demanded Kurt's opinion on a song to tempt him into talking. He'd just nod and murmur, "mhm," "'kay" or "yeah." Every so often- heck, make that every _sentence-_ Blaine would throw in a cutting remark until Santana lost it and they had a shouting match right there in the middle of the coffee shop. Brittany calmed them down by insisting that it was peace that solved all problems, not war. Santana and Blaine then slumped in their seats with scowls on their faces while Brittany declared it was story time and told them about Lord Tubbington's retarded eating habits.

Kurt had never felt more like an outcast. He just sat there and watched as the others conversed, so invisible it was a miracle he couldn't see through his own hand. To make matters worse, he and Blaine were nowhere _near _picking a song for their duet. Blaine most likely didn't want anything to do with Kurt and he _definitely_ didn't want anything to do with the Glee club. Kurt wanted to ask him what song they were going to do, but Blaine was so unapproachable- he was rude, obnoxious, and short-tempered, all the qualities that made Kurt shrink away.

And now he and Blaine were the only ones sitting at the table. It was only a matter of time before Blaine started yelling at _him _too.

Kurt ducked his head to check the time on his phone. His father was expecting him to be home in half an hour. Kurt wondered if he could scratch up an excuse that would make him go home early- but unfortunately he wasn't a very good liar. He slid his phone back in his pocket and looked up to meet a pair of hazel eyes. Blaine quickly looked away, trying to look bored, and took a sip from his drink. His coffee was cold. Just as he put his cup down Kurt was reaching for the sugar, and their fingers bumped. Uncomfortable tingles went through them.

_Holy crap, this is awkward as hell, _Blaine thought. The seconds on the clock above the counter ticked by.

"So," Blaine started. Kurt looked up from stirring his coffee, a little startled. "Have you like, just transferred to McKinley High this year?"

Kurt blinked. His eyes were an innocent, pure blue. "I've been here since freshman year," he muttered.

Blaine narrowed his eyes. "Then how the hell don't I know you? I know _everybody._"

Kurt bit his lip, looking down. A pink flush was spread on his cheeks. Embarrassed.

Blaine felt a pang of guilt that came out of nowhere. "Sorry," Blaine found himself saying. He resisted the urge to frown at himself- what was _wrong _with him today? "Well," he tried again, hoping to sound more like himself. "I want us to _crush_ those losers at the duet competition next week. I was thinking we should do a really-"

'_Is this real life? Is this just fantasy?_'

Kurt jumped. Blaine looked bewildered.

'_Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality!_'

"The fuck is that?" Blaine asked, trying to look more annoyed than amused.

"That- that's my phone," Kurt began rummaging in his pockets, pulling it out. "Excuse me," he sent Blaine an apologetic look before answering the call.

"_Hey!_" Mercedes' voice boomed on the other end.

"Oh, hey Mercedes," Kurt said, a little glad she called to distract him from the current awkwardness.

"I had a sore throat today. So wassup?"

"Um," Kurt glanced up at Blaine, who raised his eyebrow impatiently. "C-Can I call you later today? I'm kinda busy."

"Call me as soon as possible. We need to catch up!"

"Alright. See ya." Kurt hit _END CALL _and turned back to Blaine. "Sorry."

"I see you're a fan of Freddy Mercury, huh?" Blaine said, letting his apology slide past.

Kurt colored. Blaine would probably make fun of his musical tastes any minute now. "Um-"

"Don't tell anybody," Blaine warned in a low voice. "But I am too."

"Y- you are?" Kurt was surprised.

"Yeah, believe it or not. I think today's singers are a load of autotuned crap. So-" Blaine slightly leaned forward. "That means I might some suggestions for the duet competition…"

(A/N) HEEEEY EVERYBODY! Since it's Easter Break I thought I would update this story more frequently since I have more free time, but NOOO- whenever I have a load of crap I need to do (hello there pile of homework) I always manage to post more chapters. And that pile of homework never shrinks. I have no idea if it's a blessing or a curse. (Meh, it's a blessing!) Alrighty, I promise y'all that the next chapter will come faster and longer (that's what she said!) SEE YA!


	7. Close Calls

**Chapter 7**

**Close Calls**

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. _

With each step, Kurt's Burberry boots sank into the white snow with a soft scrunch. There was snow covering the cracked, grey pavement like a fluffy carpet. There was snow swathing dusty rooftops and bare windowsills like icing on a gingerbread house. There was snow hiding the dullness, the dreariness, the deadliness and turning it into something more magical, lively, exciting.

Kurt sighed contentedly, his breath coming out in little puffs of steam. Beside him, Blaine's ranting echoed into the streets of Lima.

"I can't believe those bitches left me to pay for their lattes!" he was saying. "They should be glad I'm kind and considerate!"

"Sure," Kurt said. He meant to say it nicely, but there was an unintentional hint of sarcasm in his voice. He bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the icy ground, hoping Blaine hadn't heard. _I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it…_

Blaine narrowed his eyes. "I know I'm not the nicest of people, Kurt," he spat. "But you don't have to rub it in."

"Sorry," Kurt whispered, hurt that Blaine was blaming him.

_Crap. _Blaine looked at the boy walking next to him- his head was bowed, gaze averted, lips turned downwards. Okay, so Blaine had felt shitty before (100% of the time was with his father) but never about his attitude towards a person. In fact, he always felt _good _bad-mouthing someone- it made him feel bigger, better, the one in power. But now he just felt… yeah, shitty.

For one blinding moment Blaine was caught in an annoyance that someone he knew for like an _hour _could make him feel that way. He wondered if he should just quit the competition, drop Kurt cold, and declare himself a budding solo artist so he wouldn't have to sing with anyone _ever again- _but no. He couldn't. His father would…

Blaine sighed, all sparks of rage fizzling out, leaving him dull and empty like a used up firecracker. "Forget it," he huffed. "_I_ should be the one apologizing anyway."

Kurt lifted his head. Blaine was trudging along, hands stuffed in his pockets, a frown on his face.

"It's okay," Kurt said softly. He was willing to forgive anybody who admitted they were wrong, and right now, he was happy to forgive Blaine. And anyway, he wasn't one to hold grudges. He never held one in his entire life.

Overhead, the bare trees swished in the early January wind. Their weak, spindly branches reached up, up, up to the barely-visible sun, as if seeking warmth and closure beyond the frosty clouds. Yet however far they stretched, their roots still stubbornly held them down. And so the trees remained feeble, frail, fragile. Hopeless.

Just across the street, a rooftop peeked above an iron fence, growing nearer and nearer. Blaine wished it would go _farther _and _farther, _feeling exactly like the trees in winter- hopeless, an anchor tethering him down to his private hell at home, never being able to reach warmth and comfort no matter how hard he tried.

"Watch out!" a voice yelped.

It all happened in a blink. A gloved hand curled around Blaine's wrist and yanked him forward. Tires screeched. A car honked. It zipped past Blaine, so close his coat whipped from the sudden gust of air. He stumbled onto the sidewalk, breathless.

"Are you okay?" the voice asked him frantically.

Blaine's heart was beating as loud as a hammer against a nail, his vision blurry with shock and confusion. "What the hell just happened?" he breathed.

"You were distracted- you didn't see the car coming towards you… I pulled you away- before anything happened..." the voice choked.

Blaine rubbed his eyes, breathing deeply. His vision swamped into view. A face, with nose and cheeks pinked from the cold. A pair of cerulean blue eyes, filled with worry. Perfectly coiffed chocolate-brown hair with one stray strand hanging down, contrasting against his pale skin.

"Damn," Blaine said shakily. "That was one close call."

"I know," Kurt whispered. He saw Blaine's eyes travel down to his hand, still curled around his wrist. Kurt let go immediately. "Sor-"

"Don't apologize, God damn it!" Blaine told him swiftly, but his pulse still peaked at a violent rate- he couldn't believe what just happened. "Now come on, my house is right here."

They both turned to the metal gate surrounding the quaint, little building. It was painted beige with a grey slate-tiled roof, covered with a thin layer of snow. A cobbled walkway led up to the front porch, beyond that a wooden door fixed with a stained-glass window. To Kurt, it looked just like all the other residences in Lima, neat and tidy. But if you have lived in that house all your life as Blaine had, you would feel the sinister air clouding the property, feel caged within its iron fence, say goodbye to the sunlight as you eye the tightly-shut curtains through the windows.

"Okay," Blaine turned back to Kurt. "Have you got our song choices written down in your notes?"

"All of them," Kurt nodded.

"Can I see?"

Kurt reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone, opened it to his notes, and handed it to Blaine. He warily watched him tap the screen, typing something, before handing it back to Kurt.

"Here. I put myself in your contact list," he said, not really caring if he sounded haughty and arrogant. "Since everybody in school has me in theirs already, it really offended me that _you_ didn't. And since I've got everybody in school in mine, I'm again offended that I don't have you."

Kurt was taken aback. "A-a-are you asking for my number?"

"Um, duh," Blaine rolled his eyes. Really, he was trying to mask the fact that he felt slightly… nervous? _Nah, it must be my nerves still roiling from my near-accident. _

"O-o-okay," Kurt's hands shook as he typed into his phone. "I t-texted them to you."

"Cool," Blaine said casually, letting Kurt's nervousness slide past. Actually, it was kind of cute that Kurt was a jangle of nerves just because of him. _Wait, what the fuck brain? _"I got to go," Blaine said hurriedly, fumbling with the latch on the fence.

Kurt swallowed and turned away. "Alright."

The fence swung open. Blaine took a step on the cobbled walkway, his feet sinking onto the thin layer of snow.

Then he turned back around. "Kurt!" he called.

Kurt turned back as well, his head tilted.

"Thank you for…" Blaine jerked his head towards the street. The car honk and screech of tires echoed into his head. "You know."

"No problem." Kurt shrugged, a small smile on his lips, red from the cold. He was glad that Blaine actually remembered to thank him.

Blaine felt a smile tug on his lips as well. It didn't feel forced, or sneering, or malicious. It was light, easy, relaxed. Kurt noticed how his eyes glinted slightly, two caverns of browns and greens.

But in a flash, it was gone. Poof. Vamoosh. _Khalas._ "See you tomorrow then."

"See you," Kurt said, nodding. He turned on his heel and began walking down the street.

Blaine watched him turn around a corner and sighed. He looked back at his house, hands tightened so hard against the fence his knuckles were white.

Then the color drained from his face.

There was a shadow standing behind the stained-glass window. Waiting.

_No. Not him. Please. _

But however hard Blaine prayed, it would always be '_him', _waiting, watching, for the moment his son walked up the cobblestone path and into the endless black hole of pain he called home. 

* * *

"OH _HELL_ TO THE NO!" Mercedes screeched. "You have GOT to be joking! I am NOT paired with Puck!"

"You are," Kurt told her calmly, holding his mobile a little further from his ear.

"As if I'm going to Breadsticks with that ass!" Mercedes raged. There was a pause in which Kurt imagined her seething quietly. "You know what, I have a plan."

"What is it?" Kurt asked, dabbing moisturizer onto his face with his free hand. Cold weather didn't really like his skin that much. Okay, at all.

"In order to lose the competition, Puck and I are going to sing the cheesiest song ever."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Nine-to-Five, bitches!"

Kurt couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Seriously?"

"If Mr. Schue won't let you and Puck switch partners then yes, seriously!"

Kurt's laughter died out. "Um, thing is, I don't know if I want to switch..."

"Oh?" Mercedes sounded teasing. "What's going on with you and Anderson then?"

Kurt's face turned red. Never in a million years would Blaine have something 'going on' with someone as unpopular as Fluttershy Kurt. "Nothing!" he gasped. "It's just that we're already far ahead, you know, with our song list and scheduled practice tomorrow and-"

"Okay, okay, okay," Mercedes laughed. "Listen, Kurt…" Her voice suddenly turned serious.

Kurt nervously rubbed the lotion on his face. "Mhm?"

"Watch out, okay?"

"W-watch out?" Kurt blinked. "But Blaine is is kind of… I don't know, nice?"

Mercedes snorted. "Yeah, a person who yells at his math teacher is nice. I'm not even going to mention the other stuff he's said and done! He could hurt you really bad, Kurt."

"I could see why you're saying that, Mercedes," Kurt sighed. "But I'm just starting to know him, so I'm not really sure…"

"Well good luck with that!"

"KURT!" Carole's voice echoed up the stairs, startling him. "DINNER'S READY!"

Kurt closed the bottle of his moisturizer with a _click. _"I need to go now."

"Okay, take care, Kurt. See you tomorrow!"

"Bye."

Kurt stared at his phone. _CALL_ _ENDED_, it read.

Mercedes' voice spun through his head. _Watch out, okay?_

Funny thing is, Kurt didn't really know if he _wanted _to watch our or not.

(A/N) There ya go, longer chapter YOU SPOILT BRATS. Kidding. Obviously. Anyways, so I got the Nine-to-Five idea from Harryba, who is this awesome dude who writes AMAZING stories! You better read them as well as follow, favorite and review OR ELSE… (Warning: check under bed every night!) And if you're wondering what the hell '_khalas_' means, it is Arabic (my language) for 'finish.' Yeah, I had to add that! I guess some of you (all of you? None of you?) learnt a new word today! See you next update, my pretties!


	8. Good Times

**Chapter 8**

**Good Times**

Key after glossy key slipped away from the pads of Blaine's fingers as he ran his hand along the piano. The C Major scale reverberated around the auditorium, going from deep and rumbling to high-pitched and tinny, before fading away into silence. Blaine took a seat on the cushioned stool in front of the piano and pressed his fingers to the keys again.

The auditorium seemed to spring to life as Blaine played tune after tune, the melodies spilling off the stage and filling the room, drifting into every nook and cranny, weaving through the seats below, bouncing off the walls. Blaine's fingers flashed against the blur of black and white keys, pouring all his anger, resentment and fear into his playing, rhythm growing more and more frantic as if the piano was his father's face and he wanted to punch it very, very badly.

Slowly, the level of excitement in the room wandered downhill. The melodies grew tired, delicately drifting down to the floor like a leaf in autumn until there was none left. The auditorium became as silent as a graveyard. Blaine's hands slipped from the piano and onto his lap, drained, worn out- but satisfied. A calm, pensive feeling drifted over Blaine like a cloud, and he sighed contentedly.

"I never knew you played the piano."

With a start, Blaine whipped around to see Kurt standing behind him, a stack of papers in his hand.

"You scared the crap out of me, Kurt," Blaine said, but wasn't feeling bitter enough to snap it. "And yes, I _do _play the piano. Don't tell anyone, but it kind of calms me down."

When Blaine was a freshman, he used to take the piano courses they offered at McKinley, but eventually Devon pulled him out, calling him a girl. Since then, Blaine secretly played the piano on whatever he could get his hands on: IPhone apps, those cheap-ass electronic keyboards (Brittany,) computer programs, and most frequently the piano at the auditorium. It helped Blaine vent out his daily frustrations, be lost in the music, forget everything else except him and the melody.

"So, what have you got there?" Blaine nodded at the papers in Kurt's arms. "Math homework?"

"Sheet music," Kurt said simply, dropping them on the top of the piano.

"Brilliant." Blaine took a stack and began rifling through them. "Aha," he propped one against the piano stand, flexed his fingers and began to play again. "_I've paid my dues, time after time. I've done my sentence, but committed no crime._"

Kurt wondered if they would have won last year's nationals if Blaine had been in the Glee club. His voice was deep, but not rumbling; soulful, but not somber. He hit all the correct notes- singing _and _playing the piano.

"Come on, Kurt- sing!" Blaine urged him.

"Oh- okay." Kurt gripped the edges of the piano, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth. "_And bad mistakes, I've made a few-_" he glanced at Blaine.

"Go on," he nodded.

"_I've had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I've come through,_" Kurt continued.

Blaine thought of the first time he heard Kurt's voice. He had concluded it sounded like a girl's- but now, Blaine was having second thoughts. Kurt had a high vocal range, sure, but it wasn't annoying like Sugar's or Rachel's. It sounded soft, pure, clear and flexible, going through the song easily- maybe with no effort at all- like he sang it everyday.

"_We are the champions, my friends. And we'll keep on fighting, 'till the end._" Even though they didn't want to show it, both Kurt and Blaine were rather marveled at how well their voices flowed together. They were just like cake and icing on top- Blaine with his deep undertones, Kurt with his high ones. With their contrast of voices, they didn't drown each other out, and mingled together perfectly in harmony.

"Damn." Blaine stopped abruptly. "We are so going to win this."

Kurt didn't know why, but he blushed.

"But _not _with this song." Blaine took We are the Champions off the stand and replaced it with another sheet. He began playing the piano again- and Kurt was all too familiar with the melody. "_Each morning I get up I die a little, can barely stand on my feet. Take a look in the mirror and cry-_"

"_-Lord what you're doing to me,_" Kurt continued. "_I have spent all my years in believing you, but I just can't get no relief._"

"_Lord, somebody, somebody,_" they chorused. "_Can anybody find me somebody to love?_"

Kurt smiled. "The New Directions sang this song the first year we were formed."

Blaine looked appalled. "People say history is bound to repeat itself, but not in our case, okay?" he studied a different sheet before putting it on the stand. "This is one of my favorite songs." He began to play a fast and energetic tune. "_Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time. I feel alive and the world it's turning inside out, yeah! I'm floating in ecstasy-_"

"Mine too!" Kurt grinned. "_So don't stop me now, don't stop me, 'cause I'm having a good time, having a good time!_"

The auditorium was brought to life again with sounds of renewed energy: the cheerful playing of the piano acting as background music for jovial, harmonized singing and little bursts of laughter. Blaine's fingers drummed the piano keys so fast they were almost a blur.

"_Don't stop me, don't stop me, don't stop me!_" he sang loudly, his eyes sparkling. "_Hey hey hey!_"

"_Don't stop me, don't stop me!_" Kurt followed, smiling so much his face hurt. "_Ooh ooh ooh!_"

"_I like it!_" Blaine yelled. They both burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Blaine."

"What?" Blaine stopped singing and looked up Kurt, who looked back down at him, confused.

"Am I doing something wrong?" he asked. God bless (or God _damn_) his innocent expression.

Blaine's brows furrowed. "Did you say my name?"

"No. Why?"

"_Blaine_." There the voice was again, more urgent this time- and too deep to be Kurt's. It came from offstage.

There was a dark silhouette standing among the rows of red seats. It walked, closer and closer, until it stepped into the dim puddle of spotlight that pooled down from the stage. The silhouette turned out to be a man. He wore a smart, freshly-pressed suit, and carried a leather briefcase in his hand. His hair was slicked back smartly with gel, and his eyebrows were thick. He had a calm poker-face, but his eyes flicked back and forth enquiringly between the two boys onstage.

Suddenly Blaine's throat felt scratchy from singing too much. The excessive piano playing made his fingers ache. The spotlight was hurting his eyes. He felt a burning rage at this man for interrupting him and Kurt's practice. They were having a _great _time, thank you very much- greater than Blaine had ever felt in ages, and now _this_ guy came and shattered the moment like glass. Wonderful.

"An hour has passed, Blaine," Devon told him, looking at his watch. "It's time to go home."

"Is that a Rolex?" Kurt said breathlessly, to everyone's astonishment.

"Kurt," Blaine muttered warningly.

"Why, yes, it is," Devon remained calm, but there was surprise in his eyes.

"Oh my gosh, I saw it on the cover of the latest issue of Vogue," Kurt gushed. "As well as your Armani suit- it's one of the most popular in this season's collection!"

"Ah, I keep my eye out for the trends," Devon winked, making Kurt grin.

With horror, Blaine watched the two of them converse as one would watch a game of Ping-Pong. His father acted so _nice _and _friendly _around everybody, but at home he dropped the act like it was a giant tarantula with the head of Rachel Berry- and it was about to throw a tantrum about not getting a solo.

"Right Blaine, time to go," his father jerked his head towards the exit.

Blaine's feet felt rooted to the spot. "C-can't I go home myself?"

Mr. Anderson's jaw tightened, but relaxed faster than you can say _oh hell no!_ "I finished early today so I decided to pick you up- and you _will _be coming with me, okay?" He had intended to sound friendly, but Blaine noticed the hard edge to his words.

"Okay," Blaine muttered, his chest threatening to crack under the force of his beating heart. He turned to Kurt. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow again for another practice?"

"Okay." Kurt noticed how the sparkle in Blaine's eyes were gone. They looked hollowed out, tired. _Hmm… _

He watched Blaine thump down the stairs to his father, his hands in his pockets, head bowed. All the while Devon waited, a rather… _disapproving_ look in his eyes. He put his hand on his son's back, holding it a little tootightly.

"Come on," he said. Or growled? Kurt realized he couldn't tell.

"Goodbye Blaine," Kurt called after them, hoping he didn't sound too anxious. "And Mr. Anderson."

Devon looked over his shoulder, flashing him a smile, no trace of negative emotions in his eyes. Kurt wondered if he'd imagined it. "Good afternoon."

Blaine didn't even look back. His hands had dropped to his sides, fists clenched.

The doors to the auditorium swung open, and when they closed again, Kurt was alone.

_Huh, _he thought, beginning to gather all the sheet music. _Mr. Anderson is one strange man…_

(A/N) Man, I _hate _Blaine's dad. He's such a two-faced little shit. Don't worry guys, the Big Bad Wolf will eventually be defeated! Alrighty, so I just found out that 'Breadsticks' is actually spelt as 'Breadstix'. But since the x kind of pisses me off I'm just going to keep it as Breadsticks. Hope you don't mind.


	9. Get Your Duet On

**Chapter 9**

**Get Your Duet On**

The New Directions had finally settled into their seats, but there was an excited buzz in the air.

"Welcome back, everyone!" Mr. Schuester said, clapping his hands together. "Are you ready for the competition?"

A chorus of "Hell yeah!" and "bring it on!" and "Breadsticks!" rippled through the Glee club. Blaine was the loudest of all: "Kurt and I are going to _kick your asses!_"

Next to him, Kurt hid his reddened face in his hands.

"_Brit and I _are going to kick your asses!" Santana yelled back. She and Blaine glared at each other, smoke practically shooting out of their ears.

"Settle down, guys," Mr. Schuester said. "Before we begin, I'd like to show you your guest judge… Miss Emma Pillsbury!"

Emma walked into the choir room to hoots and claps, her hands clasped together, smiling. "Hello everyone!" she said brightly.

_Oh great, _Blaine thought, rolling his eyes. _Miss_ _Pillsbury _was their guest judge. Did he mention she was the guidance counselor who had a bad case of OCD? No? Anyone?

"So," Emma said. Blaine thought she probably wanted to grab a sponge and some Dettol and scrub everyone until their skin came off. "Who wants to go first?"

Naturally, Rachel's hand shot in the air faster than lightning.

"Rachel and Finn," Emma gestured to the front of the choir room, where the two partners took their places.

"We're going last so we're fresh in Miss Penny-Lock's mind, okay?" Blaine whispered to Kurt as the band started to play.

Kurt nodded, ignoring the fact that Blaine called Mr. Schue's sweet, kind girlfriend _Penny_-_Locks_.

"_Each time the wind blows, I hear your voice so I call your name. Whispers in morning our love is dawning, heaven's glad you came,_" Finn sang, very obviously directing his words at Rachel.

_Hm, Michael Jackson, _Blaine thought as Finn finished his verse and Rachel started her part. _Bad decision to make him cringe in his grave._

"Beautiful!" Emma clapped her hands when Rachel and Finn were finished. "Who would like to go next?"

Mike and Tina were second up, starting with their backs to the audience.

Mike whirled around, singing- no, _rapping- _scratch that, _half-_rapping: "_See, I couldn't really sing I could never really sing what I couldn't do was-_"

"_Sing!_" Tina chorused.

Blaine's look clearly stated, _dafuq?_

Mike continued, "_I have a trouble with a-_"

"_Note!_" Tina sang happily.

"_It all goes around my_-"

"_Throat!_"

"_It's a terrifying-_"

"_Thing!_"

Blaine clamped his hands over his mouth, trying not to burst into laughter as Mike and Tina pranced around everywhere looking like idiots.

"That was really creative, Mike and Tina!" Mr. Schuester praised when they were done. Blaine shook with silent laughter. Were their duet _supposed _to be funny?

Next up was Mercedes and Puck.

"What's with the joy?" Blaine asked Kurt, noticing the exchange of grins between Kurt and Mercedes.

"Mercedes wants to deliberately lose the competition because of Puck," Kurt answered. "And he has no idea."

"He's too dense," Blaine scoffed.

The band started to play a saucy tune. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, knowing what was to come. "_Tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen, pour myself a cup of ambition, and yawn, and stretch and try to come to life,_" Mercedes sang, a hand on her hip and a smirk on her face.

Blaine threw his head back and burst out laughing. Beside him, Kurt dissolved into giggles. All around them, the Glee club started tittering. Mercedes' smirk grew wider.

"_Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumping, out on the street the traffic starts jumping, with folks like me on the job from nine to five,_" Puck followed, trying to look badass, but really, he had no idea what the hell was going on.

"_Nine to five, what a way to make a living. Barely getting by, it's all taking and no giving. They just use your mind and they never give you credit._"

By now the Glee club was in giggles. Mercedes was not helping by clapping her hands to the rhythm enthusiastically while Puck just sang along, looking more confused.

When the song was over, the Glee club burst into applause so loudly the windows could have rattled.

"Nine to Five, baby!" Mercedes yelled. Puck's quizzical expression melted away, replaced by one that read, _huh, guess I _am _getting laid tonight!_

"That was a rather, uh," Emma smoothed down her skirt. "_Unexpected _song choice, you two."

"I know," Mercedes said simply. As she passed Kurt's seat, she gave him a high five.

Sam and Quinn took their places, a guitar in Sam's hands. He began to strum it while Quinn held down the frets. _"Do you hear me, I'm talking to you, across the water, across the deep blue ocean under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying."_

_"Boy I hear you, in my dreams, I feel you whisper, across the sea," _As Quinn sang, she kept glancing up at her boyfriend and giving him loving smiles. Barf._ "I keep you with me, in my heart. You make it easier when life gets hard." _

"_Lucky I'm in love with my best friend, lucky to have been where I have been, lucky to be coming home again,_" they crooned.

_So cheesy, _Blaine thought, grimacing.

"_Lucky we're in love in every way. Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed, lucky to be coming home someday. Ooh ooh, ooh ooh…_"

"So freaking charming," Santana muttered, the sarcasm dripping from her voice like acid. Blaine smirked.

The audience dissolved into claps.

"Very romantic," Emma praised. "Next, please?"

Artie wheeled to the front of the choir room, Sugar skipping along behind him.

"_L is for the way you look at me,_" Artie sang. _He needs to blow his nose, _Blaine decided.

"_O is for the only one I see,_" Sugar trilled. Blaine put his fingers to his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

"_V is very, very extraordinary._"

"_E is even more than anyone that you adore and love is all I can give to you._"

"_Love is more than just a game for two._"

By the time those two finished Blaine was sure his eardrums were damaged beyond repair.

"Great, you two," Mr. Schuester gave a thumbs up. Sugar squealed and squeezed the very surprised Glee club coach.

"We're up, bitches!" Brittany and Santana whooped, running up to the front.

"_Clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade,_" Brittany started, laying seductively across the top of the piano. Blaine looked disgusted. "_Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away._"

"_I've done alright up 'till now, it's the light of day that shows me how,_" Santana followed, sauntering up closer to the audience. "_So when the night falls, my lonely heart calls._"

As they burst into chorus, Santana suddenly grabbed Emma's hands and started to dance with her. Somebody whooped. Emma looked flustered, but happy all the same.

"_I wanna feel the heat with somebody,_" Santana gave Miss Pillsbury a light push into her seat as Brittany skipped her way over to Blaine's direction- and began dragging him towards the front of the choir room.

"Brittany, no!" Blaine protested as she forced him into a twirl.

"_Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody-_"

"Let me go!"

"_With somebody who loves me!_" Brittany finally pushed him away- a little too hard.

As Blaine dropped back to his seat, scowling, he noticed Kurt was in a fit of giggles. Blaine shot him a look.

"Sorry," Kurt spluttered, very obviously not meaning it.

When Brittany and Santana were finished, the New Directions applauded almost as loud as after Nine to Five- but this time, they _meant_ their whoops and cheers.

Blaine's mouth was hanging open. Kurt was looking uneasy. They had to admit, that duet had been brilliant- and they weren't too happy about it. Santana smirked at them as if to say, _try and beat _that!

"Is that everyone?" Emma asked once she was done graciously praising the pair.

"Almost," Blaine piped up, standing.

_Oh_ _crap_. Kurt swallowed. In the midst of the excitement he had forgotten they were next.

Blaine took his place at the piano, Kurt leaning against it. The New Directions had quieted down, looking on expectantly, obviously not guessing Blaine had agreed to do this. Kurt took a peek at the audience: Rachel smiled at him, and Mercedes gave him a thumbs up. Santana tilted her head to the side, waiting. Brittany looked bored.

_We're going to crush these losers, _Blaine decided as he played the first notes of the song. This time it was slower, unlike the fast rendition he did at him and Kurt's first practice. They had decided to put a twist to the song.

"_Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time. I feel alive and the world it's turning inside out, yeah,_" Kurt sang, sounding unhurried, relaxed. "_I'm floating around in ecstasy-_"

"_So don't stop me now,_" the Glee club harmonized, to Kurt's surprise. "_Don't stop me._"

That's when Blaine's playing grew more frantic and energized. He stood up abruptly, kicking the stool back and letting it clatter to the floor. (Hey, he was in his element. He could do whatever he wanted.)

"_'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time!_" the two boys sang.

Everyone, including Emma and Mr. Schuester, looked stunned. Blaine shot them a smirk as if to say, _yeah, we sound better than you and do you _know_ it!_

Blaine went through the second verse with confidence, knowing that this might as well be his theme song. As Kurt started his part, they both left the piano and ran up to the center. The band took this as a cue to start jamming out on their instruments.

Kurt _was _having a good time. And judging by the way Blaine was grinning as he sang, _he_ was having a blast too. They both lost themselves in the music just as they had at their first practice, and by the time they reached the bridge the New Directions were singing along without a care in the world.

_Yes, my minions! _Blaine thought, amused. _Worship the music of your leaders!_

When they were finished, the Glee club cheered loudly- just as as they had to I Wanna Dance with Somebody, maybe even louder. Blaine bowed, soaking in the applause while Kurt blushed, pleased.

"That was amazing, you two!" Emma applauded.

"A very energetic performance!" Mr. Schuester smiled.

"We know," Blaine smirked. Then he muttered to his partner, "We're going to win this."

(A/N) Guys, a few chapters back I asked you what songs you'd like to see in this fanfic. Now I'm asking it again. And I'd love to thank you for the reviews! They really really make my day. Okay, see you next chapter, my pretties!


	10. Decisions

**Chapter 10**

**Decisions**

(A/N) Okay guys, I've decided- I'm going to stop calling it 'Breadsticks' and use the proper way: Breadstix. Geez Louise. Spelling is so annoying.

Unlike last week, a cloud of tension hung over the New Directions as they watched Emma and Mr. Schuester standing at the front of the choir room.

"You presented such fantasticduets," Miss Pillsbury was saying. "_All _of them deserved a prize!"

_Yada yada yada, _Blaine thought, arms crossed.

"But me and Emma mulled things over," Mr. Schuester continued. "And we have come to the decision of the winner pair."

"Shut up and give me my Breadsticks," Santana murmured.

"Who are…" Mr. Schuester paused for effect.

"_My _Breadsticks," Blaine muttered back to the Cheerio. Cue another glaring contest.

The Glee club waited with bated breath as their coach took the 'pause for effect' a little _too _far.

"Kurt and Blaine!" he announced stridently. Kurt's heart stopped.

"YES!" Blaine shouted, standing up triumphantly. "Take _that, _losers!"

Then he was taking Kurt's hand and pulling him to the front to a series of applause. Kurt's fingers burned at the sudden contact, and his legs felt like jelly. They had _won. _

Emma brandished two coupons with a sunny smile. "You two must have put so much thought into your performance," she said, handing it to them. "It was excellent!"

"I just like winning," Blaine smirked.

He walked victoriously back to his seat, Kurt trailing behind him. Once they were sitting down, Blaine demanded a light fist-bump to which Kurt returned, still stunned. Santana gave them a curt nod of approval. Hey, she was scowling, but still.

"Alright everyone!" Mr. Schuester announced, uncapping his marker. "This week's assignment is-"

"Barbra Streisand," Rachel demanded breathlessly.

"Bruce Lee," Mike joked, receiving a glare from Tina.

"Beyoncé?" Mercedes said hopefully.

_Glee club cancellation? _Blaine thought boredly.

Mr. Schuester ignored them, scribbling something in huge capital letters on the board. Damn. That guy probably spends his rent money on whiteboard markers.

"Underdogs!" he cried, stepping away to reveal the word. "The Glee club has always struggled with popularity, as you all know-"

_Yuh huh. _Blaine rolled his eyes. He was glad he didn't say that out loud, because Fluttershy Kurt was right there next to him. Slightly squirming too.

"-and know is the time you all sing about it!" Mr. Schuester continued. "In a group performance!"

Blaine facepalmed. _Oh God no. _

"We should do Don't Rain on my Parade," Rachel gushed.

"Give us a break!" Mercedes snapped, making Rachel sulk.

"How about One Direction's Live While we're Young?" Sugar suggested excitedly.

"Nuh uh. No way," Blaine bluntly declined, fingers in his ears.

The New Directions had decided to meet up in the auditorium after school to discuss songs and choreography. Usually they would have talked things through and come up with a number just fine, but today…

Kurt sat at the edge of the stage, swinging his legs, watching the mayhem unfold. Eventually, Rachel will be in tears, Quinn will bitch-slap someone, Sam will be doing a Nicholas Cage impression, and Santana is going to be screaming and on the verge of attack. On top of that Finn will be trying to calm everyone down- and miserably failing.

"Guys?" his voice was lost among the bitching and screaming- erm, arguing.

"Guys," he tried again, a little more urgently.

"_TU ERES LOCA!_" Santana screamed at some poor soul. Probably Rachel.

"I was thinking-"

Rachel shrieked and staggered back as Santana lunged, Brittany attempting to pull her back from behind.

"Oh my God, what is _wrong _with you all today?" Kurt cried. He shut his mouth quickly. Everyone had abruptly stopped what they were doing and looked at him, Santana paused mid-lunge.

"You were saying?" Blaine raised an eyebrow at him.

"Um-" Kurt grasped for his voice. "I was thinking we could do Pink's Raise Your Glass," he suggested. "So… how about it?"

There was a silence in which everyone looked at one another in consideration.

"All in favor of Raise Your Glass, raise your hand," Blaine broke the silence. His hand was up. Mercedes followed shortly. Soon the air was filled with a sea of raised arms, and Kurt felt a rush of gratitude.

"All right then, Pink it is," Finn said officially.

Rachel looked disappointed, but she managed a smile. "Although I would have preferred Don't Rain on my-"

"Let's get on to choreography!" Finn cut off, to everyone's relief.

* * *

Kurt tightened the knot of his scarf, loosened it, then tightened it again. He sighed, shutting the door of his locker and shouldering his messenger bag. The Breadstix coupon burned in his fingers.

He anxiously approached Blaine's locker. There he was, frowning and furiously rubbing concealer on his forehead.

"Um, you might not want to treat your skin that harshly or you'll get breakouts," Kurt told him without thinking. _Thanks a lot, beauty-tip-induced brain. _

Blaine jumped, startled, to see Kurt standing behind him. "Holy crap!" he huffed. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," Kurt muttered. "Tea tree oil treats pimples, by the way." _Why don't you just shut up, brain? _

"Uh huh," Blaine stuffed his concealer into his bag and hefted it onto his shoulder. "So are you here to give me skin care tips or what?"

"No." Kurt's face felt hot as he raised the Breadstix coupon. "You can have it."

"What the fuck?" Blaine peered at him. "We're not going to Breadstix together? Am I not awesome enough?"

"No, no, no," Kurt backtracked quickly. "I just thought that you might want to take somebody more… cooler? I don't know."

"Oh hell no," Blaine slammed his locker shut. "We're going to Breadstix together."

Kurt blinked. "We- we are?"

"_Duh,_" Blaine rolled his eyes. "We won the competition _together _so we're _going_ together." He never thought he'd go out with a quiet, shy little pony like Glee-club-member Kurt, but now he was and didn't give a damn.

Kurt nodded, words stuck in his throat.

"Now let's get out of here. School gives me nausea."

Kurt nodded again, sliding the coupon in his coat pocket. Together, the two boys walked towards the swinging doors and out into the swirling winter afternoon.


	11. Encounters

**Chapter 11**

**Encounters**

Jolly Italian music played in the background. Appetizing smells wafted from the kitchen, and waiters bustled around with loaded plates. Chatter filled the air. Everywhere around him, people enjoyed their meals and conversations. All the while, Kurt waited patiently at his booth.

He had picked out 12 outfits and tried on 5 of them before he asked himself what the hell he was doing. So he settled for a white cable-knit sweater, navy blue jeans (that weren't too tight,) and some brown boots. He looked comfortable, relaxed, easy-going- not to mention that he was warm and toasty on this especially bitter winter evening.

Kurt looked at his watch. It was about 7:10. Blaine had arranged for them to meet at 7 sharp, but he wasn't here yet. _Must be running an errand. Or something. Unless… _No. He didn't want to think about it. What if this was Blaine's idea of a cruel joke: leading him on, ditching their dinner and dropping him cold? It _was _possible…

"Sorry I'm late," a voice grumbled. Kurt looked up to see Blaine sliding in the seat opposite him, and his heart lifted. "I lost my favorite bowtie."

"I see." Kurt couldn't help glancing at the one Blaine was wearing now. "Hey, is that Louis Vuitton?"

"Recognized the pattern, didn't you?" Blaine asked, twitching it with a smile.

"Yeah! I mean, you could see that pattern a mile away and instantly know it's LV."

"Geez, they put it on _everything, _don't they?"

"I know!"

As they talked, Blaine was glad Kurt had bought into his 'I lost my favorite bowtie' story. Truth was, he had spent 10 minutes scrubbing blood off his shirt and trying to hide the cuts on his face. Enough said.

"When Haydn was a teacher, Beethoven was actually one of his students," Kurt was saying after the waitress took their orders. Don't even ask how they got onto the topic of composers.

"_That_ must've been a pain," Blaine complained.

"If you put it that way. He was so stubborn, whenever the audience talked he stopped whatever piece he was playing."

"I'd probably do that too. What an ass!"

Kurt laughed, making Blaine smile. His laugh was so genuine.

From the outside looking in, you couldn't tell what those two had in common. But if you listened in to their conversation, you would be proven wrong. Kurt and Blaine found out that they both liked clothes from Calvin Klein, listened to classical music, had very similar moisturizing routines and watched old movies like Moulin Rouge in their free time. Those were among many other things, too.

"Excuse me," Blaine called to a passing waitress when they had finished their food. "Bill please."

"You could have just given her the coupons," Kurt offered, stirring the remaining pieces of lettuce in his salad plate.

"A gentleman always pays on the first date," Blaine told him, winking.

Kurt's fork slipped down to the plate with a clatter. He blinked, once, twice. "We're… on a date?"

"Yuh huh." Blaine couldn't hide his smirk.

* * *

Snow fell down in soft flakes, covering the concrete floor and the cars in the parking lot in a thin layer of frost. It was freezing, but Blaine couldn't have felt any warmer.

He could have spent this evening studying for the Biology test next week. He could have been practicing cheerleading routines. He could have been sneaking over to Brittany's to play on her keyboard piano. He could have been ranting on the phone with Santana. Worst of all, he could have been suffering at home.

But no. He had spent this evening having fun. With a _boy. _A _gay _boy. Just like him.

Unlike Kurt, Blaine had gone out on dates with a few guys before. To put it short, if he wanted to commit suicide, he would jump from their ego waaaaaay down to their IQ. They were absolutely snotty and thought they were the shit. Well tough luck, 'cause _Blaine _was the shit and he made sure to drill it into their heads. But Kurt was different. He was so easy to talk to and made Blaine never feel so much at ease.

"Ugh," Kurt said suddenly. He pressed his scarf over his nose.

"What?" Blaine asked. For a moment, he wondered if he'd put on deodorant earlier.

"I hate the smell of cigarettes," Kurt grimaced under his scarf.

"Same. It smells like shit." Blaine should know- his dad smoked.

As the two of them walked towards the parking lot, the air tinged with cigarette smoke, Blaine spotted a few figures huddled to the side, away from the streetlamps. The orange glow of cigarette-ends dotted through the darkness. Blaine didn't think look twice at them as he and Kurt walked towards his car. _Must be some 14 year old kids trying to be badass. Losers. _

"Well, well, well," said a voice. One of the figures emerged from the dark.

Blaine stopped walking abruptly. Okay, he was wrong.

"Who's that?" Kurt whispered next to him.

"Just- just keep walking," Blaine mumbled, his feet remembering how to move and working faster and faster. Kurt hurried to keep along.

"Not so fast," the voice said again. The smokers came out of the shadows all at once, and encircled the two boys. They wore grey pants, white collared shirts, red and navy striped ties and navy blazers with a red 'D' on the chest pocket.

Blaine knew that uniform all too well. He clenched his fists and growled, "Get out of the way."

"That's not the way to treat an old friend!" one of the uniformed guys said. His green eyes glinted malevolently. He didn't look at _all _friendly.

"Yeah, why the hurry?" sneered another one. He reminded Kurt of a meerkat. "Had an accident, Jizzy-Pants?"

They all laughed cruelly.

"Shut _up, _Sebastian." Blaine looked like he wanted to punch a hole in their faces.

"Is this your girlfriend?" the one with the green eyes said, turning towards Kurt. "Wow Blaine, I can't believe you actually turned straight!"

They all dissolved into laughter again. Kurt's face burned, humiliated.

"Why don't you take your lame-ass insults somewhere _else_, Hunter?" Blaine snapped.

"Because it's more fun to take it out on _you, _old friend," Hunter said matter-of-factly, smirking mischievously.

"Who _are_ they?" Kurt whispered nervously to Blaine.

Hunter answered for him. "We, Barbie Doll, are the Dalton Academy Warblers. Blaine here used to be one of us until he stupidly got himself expelled before freshman year. Remember, you little squirt?"

"It wasn't like that," Blaine growled through gritted teeth.

"Oh, it _was _like that. Right, guys?"

The Warblers nodded and murmured with approval.

_Dalton Academy? Blaine? Expelled? _Kurt was beyond confused.

"What do you _want?_" Blaine yelled. It was taking all his willpower not to wrap his hands around Hunter's neck and squeeze really, really tightly. Kurt tugged anxiously on his coat sleeve, but he ignored him.

Hunter sneered. "I want to have some fun."

That very sneer used to be reserved for Blaine and only Blaine. A wave of memories flooded into his mind from a place in his brain he refused to go to, like water breaking through a dam. Suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore.

Blaine punched Hunter straight across his stupid face. The Warbler responded quickly, directing a blow on Blaine's chin. Kurt gasped and grabbed the back of Blaine's coat, trying to pull him away, but somebody grabbed him from behind and tackled him to the floor.

"I'll take care of _you, _Missy," Sebastian snickered down at him.

"Let me go!" Kurt tried to wrench away, but the meerkat guy held him down fast. Suddenly, a numbing ache resonated through Kurt's nose- he'd been hit. His eyes started to water from the pain, blurring his vision.

"Aw, the widdle baby's crying," Sebastian mock-pouted. A beat later he screamed, "_OW!_"

Kurt had acted out of self-defense, honest. And he didn't mean to kick Sebastian's groin _that_ hard either.

Somebody knocked over the pained Warbler, leaving him writhing on the ground, and hauled Kurt to his feet.

"Come on," Blaine said gruffly, pulling Kurt along with him.

They both blindly broke into a sprint. Behind them, the Warblers booed and shouted things like, "run, you cowards!" and "remember to wash your panties!" Meanwhile Kurt and Blaine weaved deep through the parking lot, away from the malicious eyes of the boys in the blazers, and slammed into Blaine's car.

They breathed heavily, feeling like they'd been choked for this past ten minutes. Kurt's nose dripped blood onto his lap. He leaned his head against the seat of the car, feeling it throb from when he was pushed to the ground. He grabbed some tissues and pressed them against his nose, sighing.

He finally found his voice. "What… was that about?" he asked thickly, nose numb.

Blaine was gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, forehead leaning against it. His shoulders heaved with heavy breaths. A silence passed.

"Will you tell anybody?" he whispered finally.

Kurt shook his head. "No."

Blaine groaned and lifted his head so it was resting against his seat, closing his eyes. He had a bruise on his jaw, a black eye and a cut on his lip. Kurt felt a pang of sympathy.

"I used to go to Dalton Academy and was a member of the Warblers- a Glee club," Blaine started shakily.

Kurt raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Dalton Academy was a posh, all-boys private school in Lima- and what was that about being a member of a _Glee club?_

"Unlike the New Directions, The Warblers were the shit," Blaine continued. _That_ explained it. "I was so proud to be part of something like it: I got to sing, I got to dance, I got to make friends. Then when ninth grade rolled around… huh, some people they turned out to be," he spat. "When I came out of the closet, I thought everyone would be fine with it and support me. Well, my so called _friends _weren't so happy. They alienated me and kicked me out of the Warblers."

"Oh Blaine, that's terrible," Kurt whispered.

"That's not even half of it!" Blaine snapped. "Everyone totally lost their respect for me- and then the bullying started. Taunts and teases to full-on pushing and shoving."

"I've been through it." Kurt sighed, so, _so _glad Karofsky was in another school now.

"But you've pulled through. Me? I became depressed and started failing all my classes to the point where I didn't want to step into school anymore. I- I wanted to die." Blaine swallowed, throat dry. "On top of that, I let my anger get the best of me and walked through Dalton like an angry tornado, leaving destruction in my wake. I did worse things than yell at my math teacher. Then one day, I had enough."

Kurt didn't like the sound of that.

"I- I just- I just _snapped_. Some Warblers got hurt in the process. I was expelled. My father…" Blaine took a shuddering breath. "He was beyond disappointed, beyond _furious _even. I had failed him very, very badly and suffered the consequences. So at McKinley, I tried my hardest to get tip-top grades in all my classes. That's why I freaked out so much when Miss McCauley gave me a B. And most importantly, I made sure that _I _was the boss of that place. I made sure no one _dared _talk back at me or tease me about my sexuality. _Nobody._"

Blaine had never told anyone about this. Not even Brittany and Santana knew. But now that he let everything out at last, he felt like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. But the weight of his _other_ secret still pressed down on him, heavy as the sky. Blaine could throw that off too, get his father behind bars- no. No, no, no. His dad was as slick as oil; he could slither out of any situation. And _then _what would happen? He was scared to think about it. _Much _too scared.

A hand wrapped around his, warm and comforting. "Oh Blaine, I'm so sorry," Kurt murmured.

Silence. The snow fell softly onto the windshield. A streetlamp blinked. A car unlocked with a beep.

And then, "Thank you for getting Sebastian away from me."

"I kind of owed it to you after my near-accident." Blaine managed a small smile. Then he scowled. "Our night was _ruined_."

"It's fine," Kurt reassured him.

"We're going to have another date to make up for this one, okay?" Blaine said firmly.

Kurt's heart fluttered at the word _date. _"O-Okay."

"Now come on, let's go to a bathroom in some deserted bar to clean up."

Blaine started the ignition, and the car hummed to life. It slowly peeled away from the parking lot and through the snow-encrusted roads of Lima.

(A/N) I hate Evil Warblers just as much as you do. Enough said.


	12. Part of the Team

**Chapter 12**

**Part of the Team**

"Tina!"

The girl in the black petticoat with blue streaks in her hair turned around, craning her head through the crowd in the hallway to see who called her.

"I need to give you something," Kurt said breathlessly when he finally caught up to her. He extended his hand, which held two Breadstix coupons.

"What…?" a look of confusion crossed Tina's face.

"I know how badly you and Mike wanted to win these, so please, take them," Kurt insisted, handing the slips of paper to her.

"Oh Kurt, that is so sweet," Tina said sincerely. "But don't you want to go to Breadstix with Blaine?"

"Oh, we already did. He paid." Kurt smiled, remembering the fun they had at the restaurant while pushing the parking lot scene _awaaaaay. _

"Ah, gentlemen always pay on the first date," Tina grinned, bopping Kurt's nose with the coupons. "And thank you so much." She engulfed him in a hug.

Kurt loved making people smile.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

"Get in order, guys!" Finn called.

A few people shuffled around, muttering things like, "Dude, that's my spot," and "Can you move up a bit?"

"Just get into your damn line!" Blaine yelled behind his shoulder, causing the shuffling to quicken. Finn shot him a relieved look.

"I can't believe I didn't get the lead solo this time," Rachel was sniveling. "It's not fair."

"Oh yes it _is_ fair," Blaine shot at her. This was absolutely normal.

"Blaine-" Kurt muttered next to him.

"Kurt and I kicked your sorry ass at the duet competition so _of course _we get the leads! Got it?"

Kurt tugged anxiously on Blaine's sleeve.

Rachel frowned. "But I-"

"But nothing, so shut up and let the pros take the lead."

"Hey, don't talk to my girlfriend like that," Finn said warningly.

Blaine crossed his arms, ready to shoot a snarky comment at Mayonnaise Face. He opened his mouth- then met Kurt's wary gaze. He paused. Finally, he heaved an exaggerated sigh.

"So-rry," he drawled, rolling his eyes. Even though that sounded nothing like an apology, the New Directions were staring at him in wonder.

Kurt gave him an approving nod. Rachel pursed her lips, but didn't complain any further.

"Okay guys!" called a familiar voice, breaking the tension. Mr. Schuester made himself comfortable at the very front seat of auditorium. "Are you ready to perform?"

"We're ready," called Finn.

The band took this as a cue to start playing. Blaine stepped forward and began to sing.

"_Right, right, turn off the light, we're going to lose our minds tonight. What's the dealio?_"

Mr. Schuester had an approving look on his face. Good.

When he finished the verse, Kurt stepped up next. "_Party crasher, penny snatcher. Call me up if you are gangster. Don't be fancy, just get dancy. Why so serious?_"

_He sounds so cute, _Blaine thought as he and the New Directions burst into chorus. Hey, he couldn't help it.

The Glee club had practiced well. They went through the choreography smoothly without any blunders and sang the song without any wrong notes. Before they knew it, the band stopped playing and Mr. Schuester was on his feet clapping.

"Extremely well performed," he told the hot, breathless and grinning New Directions on stage. "Excellent song choice, excellent choreography. And Blaine, you looked so… part of the team."

Blaine looked at his coach, stunned. "I- I did?"

"Yes! You too, Kurt!"

Kurt smiled and blushed.

"High five," Blaine told him, holding his hand up. Kurt responded it at once.

As everyone happily climbed offstage, no one noticed the shadow that slipped through the exit, unseen.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Coach?"

"Oh yes I did, Gay Anderson." Coach Sylvester glared at Blaine as she sat at her desk like a queen. A very annoyed, very _evil _queen.

Blaine plopped down into a seat, thinking how he hadn't been in this office for almost a month. He didn't really feel like he missed it, though- it was a place where he was yelled at 24/7. _Not _very good memories.

"I watched you perform today," She said in a steely voice. "And I was rather impressed except for the fact that I wanted to hurl fireballs at Will's extremely flammable wig for turning you into a singing, dancing _freak._" Her voice ended in a bark.

Blaine spread his palms in defense. "Coach, this was all just for fun. Seriously-"

"First it's my former captain Quinn, and now my_ other_ former captain- YOU. Next will be Brittanyand Santana, and _then _what will I do? I can't afford to lose another championship. I was _born _on championships. I _breathe _on championships. I _live _on championships. I need you to console Mr. Figgins again so you could _come_ _back _and be part of the team like you always were!"

Blaine stared at her, letting everything sink in. Finally he shook his head. "I _did _want to come back," he growled. "Until you made it all about _you_ and your stupid championships."

He pushed his chair back and stormed out of her office with a bittersweet feeling- he'd finally stood up to Sue, but now there wasn't much chance she'll accept him back to the Cheerios with open arms. On the other hand… did he _want _to go back anyway?

As Blaine marched down the hallway, his father's words echoed uninvited into his head: "_sissy_."

Crap. He _did _want to go back. But as much as he convinced himself, he wasn't sure if it was true.

(A/N) I'm so sorry it's short, but I start school tomorrow after spring break and I have so much homework... WHICH I'M NOT GONNA DO! I promise next chapter will be longer. Hopefully.


	13. Head in the Clouds

**Chapter 13**

**Head in the Clouds**

Kurt fumbled with the complicated laces on his skating shoes, sighing as the straps loosened again. Curses. When he finally figured out how to solve that puzzle and had his shoes on tight, he hobbled over to the entrance of the ice rink. There Blaine was, skating in lazy figure-eights amongst the others at the rink. He smiled when he saw Kurt, and started swooshing over to him.

"Hey!" he said, stopping and grabbing the plush support-bar that circled the rink. "Come join!"

All around, people were whooshing about on the ice. Some whizzed by so fast their skates were just a blur. Some slithered across shakily, keeping well near the support bars. Big brothers and sisters held their little siblings by the hand. Cliques skated together in groups. Children on a sugar rush maniacally raced against each other. Couples held each other's arms and flitted around casually. The sounds of screams, laughter and blades against ice circled the rink. A nostalgic feeling blossomed in Kurt's stomach.

"The last time I came here…" he sighed, "Was with my mom a few weeks before her passing. I was only eight."

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine sympathized. He couldn't help feeling a bit bitter though- his _own_ mother is probably making a living out of being a slutty prostitute or something. "I'm so sorry."

Kurt's distant expression changed into a scowl. He'd heard that waaaay too many times throughout his life. "Don't be," he spat, the words spilling out his mouth before his brain did a check. "That was _ten_ _years_ _ago_, stupid. Don't you think I'd cope well enough by then? Geez!"

Blaine was so taken aback his skates may have well slipped from underneath him. "Damn," he said, blinking. "Are you sure Santana didn't turn into a spirit and like, possess you?"

Before he knew it, Kurt's scowl melted away and he was laughing. "Oops," he spluttered. "That tone of voice is usually reserved for Rachel and Mercedes, not you!"

Blaine raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Forget them. I want your bitchy mode all to myself."

"If you may," Kurt rolled his eyes, trying to appear nonchalant. But inside, he was jumpy and giddy. Only a few people were willing to see the real him, and he wasn't disappointed that Blaine had now become one of them.

"Now come onto the ice," Blaine urged.

"Um," Kurt looked across at the wide expanse of ice before him. "My skating skills could be a little rusty…"

"Then let me help you." Blaine grabbed Kurt's hands. "One feet after the other."

"I'm not _that_ bad," Kurt snorted, stepping into the rink and wobbling only a little bit. "See?"

"Ditto my eyes," Blaine said sarcastically, but he was smiling. "Alright, now hold the bar just in case."

Kurt followed his orders, shaking a bit on his skates. The nostalgic feeling in his belly was growing bigger by the second. All of a sudden, Kurt was eight again. The hands holding his were leaner, more delicate. The eyes looking into his weren't hazel, but sky blue. The face that smiled at him had softer, more feminine features.

"You're getting the hang of it!" Blaine- no, _Elizabeth- _said happily.

Kurt grinned, skating along with his hands off the support bar. "I know!"

"Are you ready to skate through the center?"

"More than ever!"

Kurt followed his mother as she whooshed away from the edge of the rink, golden hair flying.

"Catch me if you can!" she yelled playfully behind her shoulder.

Kurt picked up speed with newfound determination. Elizabeth weaved flawlessly between the other skaters while Kurt slipped and slid. He fell down once or twice (okay maybe thrice,) but he didn't care- he was laughing his head off.

"Aw, did you pee your pants?" Elizabeth pouted at her son as she helped him up. The ice had soaked through Kurt's trousers and left a damp patch.

"Hey!" Kurt squealed, lunging at his mother, but she had already skated away giggling.

"I'm gonna get you!" Kurt squealed again, regaining his balance and beginning to chase her.

"_I'm dreaming of a white Christmas,_" Elizabeth sang, her voice clear and relaxed as if there wasn't a frantic eight-year-old hot on her heels. Many skaters turned to stare at her in awe. "_Just like the ones I used to know…_"

"_Where the tree tops glisten, and children listen,_" Kurt lisped in a voice that sounded exactly like his mother's. A few people cooed. "_To hear sleigh bells in the snow, the snow… _I GOT YOU!"

Elizabeth shrieked as her son barricaded into her leg, knocking the two of them down.

"Kurt," she laughed breathlessly.

"Oops," he said mischievously, and kissed her cheek in apology.

"What the-!?"

Kurt frowned. That voice wasn't his mother's… oh. With a crash and burn, he was brought back to reality. Elizabeth was dead. Kurt was eighteen. The person he'd been skating with all this time was-

"Whoa," Kurt struggled to an upright position, slipping and sliding with clumsiness. "I'm so sorry!"

Blaine scrambled to his feet, shivering. The ice had soaked through his coat and most likely down to his _bones,_ but the spot on his cheek where Kurt had kissed him was as warm as a hearth. "It's cool," he said, trying to sound casual, but his heart beat a million times faster. 

"D- Do you need a hand?" Kurt nodded his head towards Blaine's shaking legs, trying to ignore what had just happened- and the fact that some skaters were giving them strange looks because of it.

"Yeah," Blaine held Kurt's shoulder while he regained his balance. He frowned when he noticed the staring- then a naughty look crossed his face. "Do that again," he smirked.

"Do… what?" Kurt blinked.

"Annoy those homophobes," Blaine tilted his head upwards and tapped his cheek. "Come on."

Kurt hoped he heard right. "You are so malicious," he had to say, even though his heart was doing summersaults.

"Just one?" Blaine asked teasingly. "For our people!"

Kurt thought of Karofsky shoving him around, calling him names, threatening to _kill _him, and a burning rage coursed through his body. He wanted to show these anti-gays just how much he didn't care about their mere existence just as much as Blaine did, maybe even more.

"Fine," he said simply, and gave Blaine a peck on his cheek, pushing all awkwardness away. His skin smelt like aftershave, and it made Kurt's heart beat even faster.

The homophobes looked disgusted. Kurt couldn't help but stick his tongue out, and Blaine shot them an arrogant look that said, _see that assholes? SEE THAT?_

"We should go," Kurt giggled, tugging on Blaine's sleeve. He was feeling unusually giddy.

"Agreed." Blaine gave the homophobes the evil eye before skating away to the exit.

As soon as the two of them plopped down onto a bench to take their shoes off, they burst into laughter.

"You should stick your tongue out at people more often," Blaine spluttered, pulling on his boots.

Kurt smiled, adrenalin from the previous scene running through his veins. It felt so _good _to strike back at haters, to stand up for himself like that. "Yeah," he sighed. "I should."

* * *

"Thanks for the night out, Blaine," Kurt said, putting his hand on the knob of his front door. "I had a lot of fun."

"No problem," Blaine shrugged, a smirk on his face. "I'll never forget the looks on those homophobes' faces."

"Me neith-"

The front door suddenly swung open, causing the two boys to jump back in surprise. Standing at the doorway was a figure wearing a checked shirt, rumpled trousers and a baseball hat.

"Oh, it's only you, Kurt," Burt Hummel said, the confused look on his face melting away. Then he turned to Blaine. "And…?"

"Blaine Anderson," he responded immediately, giving him a smile and extending his hand.

"Burt Hummel," Kurt's father said, shaking Blaine's hand warmly. "I saw that unfamiliar car in my driveway and wondered what it was doing there. It's yours, I take it?"

"Yes," Blaine answered. He thought bitterly about how protective Kurt's father is, unlike his _own_. Oh my God. Wait a minute. He quickly looked at his watch. Ten minutes late. Shit. "I've got to be going," Blaine tried to appear casual, but inside he was _freaking out_. "My dad's expecting me to be home by now."

"Okay," Kurt smiled. "See you at school."

"Drive safe," Burt nodded.

"Thank you," Blaine called over his shoulder as he made his way towards his car. "Have a good night."

_Have a good night? _Blaine thought disgustedly as he started the ignition. _As if _I_ will. _

**(A/N)** Guys, this is a VERY important message. One of my best friends, Alice (her fanfiction name is chasachasa,) is having this weird-ass stalker called Poo_Feast leaving horrible comments on her stories. She deleted them, but oh my God they were SO CREEPY! He went on and on about how he was watching her, to 'hide yo kids and hide yo wife,' and for some VERY WEIRD REASON he is OBSESSED with his BUTTHOLE HAIR and KFC. What. the. hell. So I want YOU guys to go read and review chasachasa's fanfics to cheer her up! Even if you have no freaking idea what the Disney shows she writes about are, at least leave a nice comment, please!

And this one's for YOU, Alice! You get the honor of choosing what song you'd like to see in this fanfic! Make it as crazy as you like, I don't care. Pick whateeeeeverrr you like! And one more thing to ALL OF YOU: don't sweat da haterz! ;D


	14. Losing It

**Chapter 14**

**Losing It**

The New Directions sighed as Rachel scrawled two boisterously big letters on the choir room's board: _ME. _

"Class," she said snootily, turning away from the board and facing the Glee club. "In Mr. Schuester's absence I'd like to go around and ask everyone what solos they'd like to hear _me _perform at sectionals."

Everyone groaned.

"All right!" Santana lost it, yelling and lunging out of her seat. Brittany grabbed her waist and restrained her from pouncing. "You know what?! Let me at her! _TU ERES LOCA!_"

Rachel screamed.

* * *

_Ping! _

_New message from: Blaine. _

_You won't believe what Mr. Fraser just did. _

Kurt's fingers flew over his keyboard in anticipation. _What? _He hit _SEND. _

_Ping!_

_Blaine: He asked Lucas for his D. _

Kurt started spluttering. _He did?!_

A moment passed, and then- _ping!_

_Blaine: Yeah! Lucas was playing his trombone and kept hitting D SHARP on purpose, so Mr. Fraser snapped and was like, "LUCAS! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND? I WANT D! GIVE ME THE D! I WANT YOUR D! ARE YOU DEAF OR SOMETHING? COME ON MAN I NEED THAT D! NOW GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR TROMBONE AND GIVE ME YOUR D!" _

Kurt started to giggle uncontrollably as he typed out his next reply. _OMG what happened next?_

_Ping! _

_Blaine: The whole class went crrraazzyyy. It didn't help when Mr. F shouted, "WHAT'S SO FUNNY? ALL I WANT IS THE D!"_

Kurt started to laugh, torn between amused and horrified.

"Who are you texting?" Rachel asked curiously, nodding at Kurt's phone.

"Blaine," he said matter-of-factly, busily typing. It was study hall and the teacher on duty had left the class for coffee. As if she was coming back.

Mercedes looked up from her Biology textbook. "He seems particularly smitten with you, Kurt."

"Well he's not particularly smitten with the _rest _of the Glee club," Rachel huffed, throwing her pen on the table in frustration.

"Blaine's a nice guy once you get to know him, really," Kurt defended.

"Has he done some…" Mercedes looked worried. "_Funny _business to you, Kurt?"

"No!" he yelped, appalled. "Of course n-"

_Ping! _

_Blaine: Mindy should join the Glee club. The way she spits everywhere with her new braces will totally profit at Sectionals. I can just imagine her at her audition: "DONNN'TH THHTOP BEELEEVENNTTHHH! THTHTHTHT HOWTH THHHAT MITHTER THUETHTER?"_

Kurt burst out laughing. He felt a little mean, but he couldn't help it.

"Kurt," Rachel looked a little pouty. Not a good sign. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"What? What is it?" he asked absent mindedly, still giggling as he typed.

"Please tell Blaine to _try _and be nicer to the rest of the Glee club. Please."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Maybe if you don't bother _him _he won't bother _you_. Duh."

Rachel sounded surprised. "When do _I _bother anybody?"

"All the freaking time, Rachel," Kurt snapped. "Now shut up and let me text in peace."

"_Kurt!_"

"Hey hey hey, you two," Mercedes interjected. "There's no use fighting over this. You should just make a logical conclusion and be done with it, you know what I'm saying?"

"Logical conclusion?!" Rachel exploded. "Blaine's been in the Glee club for a whole _month _now and he's _still _mean to everyone!

Confronting him about it _is _a logical conclusion, Mercedes!"

"Calm down, calm down," Mercedes soothed. "Yes, you're right about that, but Kurt's right too- if you would just stop irritating everybody then maybe he'd start appreciating you more. Right?"

"Tell me about it," Kurt said dryly, at the same time sending a text that read, _Rachel's doing my head in. _

"Oh my goodness!" Rachel was close to full-on wailing. Students at neighboring tables were starting to stare. "What did Blaine _do _to you, Kurt?"

"Calm down, you're losing it!" Mercedes hissed.

"No, _Kurt's _losing it!" Rachel cried angrily, snatching the boy's phone out of his hands.

"Hey!" Kurt yelped. "What the hell, give it back!"

"Guys…" Mercedes warned.

Rachel held Kurt's phone out of his reach. "Blaine's a bad influence on you," she seethed. "You used to go to sleepovers with Mercedes and I every Friday. You used to do our hair while we chatted about movies and celebrities and Barbra Streisand. Remember that?"

"Give. Me. The. Phone," Kurt said through gritted teeth.

"Now whenever Mercedes or I try to invite you over you're always busy. Always Blaine Blaine Blaine. For a whole _month!_"

"Just hand it over," Kurt snapped, trying to grab his phone. Rachel held it away firmly.

"And when did you get all snappy?" she continued, sounding close to tears. "You used to be so _nice_. You used to give me dating advice. Fashion advice. We'd have heart-to-hearts. Where did all of that go?"

"I can't help it when you act like Overly Attached Girlfriend, dress like a five-year-old and are basically skin, bones and pity," Kurt huffed. He could clearly see why Blaine couldn't stand her.

"Kurt!" Mercedes gasped.

Rachel looked shocked. Then her face crumpled, and she started to sniffle. Her eyes watered and a sob emitted from her lips. A split second later she began to cry.

A whole slew of emotions hit Kurt all at once. Number one: a wave of guilt, cold and uninvited. What was he _saying_? Where was all this _coming _from? Was this even _him_ talking? Shame dripped through him from the tips of his hair down to his toes: Rachel didn't deserve to be treated like this- especially by her best friend. Sure, she was annoying, but that was from the outside looking in. Rachel wasn't annoying- she was determined, ambitious. And she was right- he _had _been neglecting his closest friends lately for Blaine. _Blaine_. Unexpected anger tingled through him: what if this _was _his entire fault? What if he _had _been a bad influence on Kurt? Finally he just... deflated, feeling drained and tired. Drained and tired from being someone he _wasn't. _

"Rachel…?" Kurt muttered.

She had her head bowed onto the table, sobbing. Mercedes patted her heaving shoulders, shooting a look at Kurt that said, _now see what you've done? _

"I'm so, so sorry," he sighed. Silence. "Talk to me, please."

Rachel looked up from her stained notebook and wiped her face on her sleeve. She took a shaky breath, looked at Kurt with her sad red-rimmed eyes and opened her mouth to say something.

_Ping! _

Everyone's heads snapped to Kurt's phone on the table, startled.

_New message from: Blaine _read the screen.

_If you hate Rachel so much, why don't you plant a dildo with her name on it in Finn's bag for him to find, like you threatened to do once? Oooooh man I could just imagine the look on his face! XD _

Two pairs of eyes locked onto Kurt's, filled with hurt and disbelief. His heart dropped to his stomach.

"Did you really say that behind Rachel's back?" Mercedes asked quietly.

Kurt tried to open his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead he nodded miserably. What use was it to lie? That would only come and bite him in the butt like _this _situation was.

Rachel inhaled sharply, then burst into tears again. She scooped up all her books, snatched a strap of her backpack and rushed towards the exit.

"Rachel!" Kurt cried, standing up. But she was already out the door.

Mercedes looked at him, disappointed. "I can't believe you, Kurt," she said sadly, shouldering her bag and tucking her books into her arm.

"I swear I didn't mean anyth-"

"Save your excuses, Kurt. Now, I'm going to Rachel. Don't come after us. It'll only make everything worse." With that, Mercedes walked towards the door without looking back.

Kurt watched on, his mouth hanging open. When she was gone, he wondered if _he _was about to start crying now.

_Ping! _

_New message from: Blaine_

_Hellooooo? Where'd you go? Did Rachel grow claws and attack you for not getting a solo? LOL!_

_This isn't funny anymore, _Kurt thought angrily, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles were white. Oozing newfound anger, he punched in a reply: _Meet me in the locker rooms. NOW. _


	15. Feud and Forgiveness

**Chapter 15**

**Feud and Forgiveness**

_Slam. _

Kurt looked around the locker rooms as soon as the door swung shut behind him, the sound echoing through the tiled space. A tap ran somewhere in the sink area. Other than that, the place was unoccupied.

"Blaine!" Kurt called out angrily.

The tap was closed hastily, and a muffled "mhm?" came from the sinks.

_There he is. _Kurt followed the voice, fists clenched. "Blaine, you-" He froze.

Blaine met his eyes in the mirror. His hazel ones were filled with surprise, and something else… fear. In his hands lay a towel, the white fluffiness stained with peach colored smears- concealer? Kurt wouldn't have been more shocked if Blaine held a gun. But his face… oh, his _face. _

Kurt's mouth was hanging open, eyes wide. "You… what…?"

Blaine ducked his head, scowling, and stuffed his towel into his bag.

"No, look at me!" Kurt gasped, scampering forward.

"Let me put on my concealer first!" Blaine complained, darting away.

"_Please, _just let me see…" Kurt cupped his hands gingerly around Blaine's face and held it up.

Blaine groaned in protest, but it was too late to run away now. Kurt gasped as he took in the purplish bruises on Blaine's cheek, the scab on his forehead, the cuts and scrapes on his chin- no, the cuts and scrapes _everywhere. _Huh, _pimples. This _was the reason Blaine used makeup. Scars.

"What… what happened?" Kurt whispered, feeling nauseous and far from angry.

"The Warblers happened!" Blaine snapped. _Sure. As if my _dad _didn't happen. _

"Blaine," Kurt urged, horrified. "You've got to tell somebody about this! You've got to tell the _police _about this!"

"Just leave it," Blaine spat.

"How can I leave it? You're getting _hurt _for God's sake!" Kurt turned Blaine's head towards the mirror to emphasize his point.

Blaine wrenched away. He hated seeing himself in this state- so broken, so _vulnerable_. "I'm not a kid, okay? I can handle this situation by myself," he said crossly.

"Why haven't you done it already then?" Kurt asked agitatedly.

"Because I'm not weak!" Blaine shouted suddenly. "I know how to stand up for myself and I don't care how much I get hurt if it means I'm striking back."

"Telling the police _is _striking back!" Kurt cried.

"No it's _not!_" Blaine yelled. "If _anyone else _finds out about this_, _I'll lose my reputation!"

Kurt was close to ripping his hair out. "So you're reputation matters more than your safety? What the hell is _wrong _with you?"

Blaine crossed his arms. "It's a matter of popularity. You wouldn't understand it."

"I just want to _help you!_" Kurt gasped, hurt.

"I don't need help from a loser!" Blaine raised his voice again, and jabbed a finger in Kurt's chest. "I don't even know why I hang out with you!"

"I don't either!" Kurt yelled, slapping his hand away. He was sick and tired of being offended. "Why did we ever hang out anyway, huh? _Huh?_"

"I thought you were cool!" Blaine raged. "Now it turns out you're just as annoying as Rachel!"

"I thought _you _were cool!" Kurt exploded. That's _it. _He wasn't going to leave even _one _word unsaid. "At first I knew you were a douchebag, but you know what? When we first rehearsed for our duet I figured I brought out the person underneath. Someone gentler, kinder. And then you told me about your history at Dalton Academy. Did I push you away because of that? No. I understood what you were going through and I understood why you're so bent on keeping your place at McKinley. I _looked up to you _because you were so brave about it. Huh! At least I _thought _you were. Blaine Anderson, you are _not _a brave person- or gentle, or kind. You are _weak_ and _pathetic _and there is absolutely NO better person underneath!"

Kurt ended his speech in a yell. He breathed hard, heart thundering, teeth grit. Blaine had stepped back, dumbfounded into silence. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Opened, and closed again.

"Say something, you look like a fish!" Kurt growled.

Blaine exhaled heavily and dropped onto a bench. All the anger drained out of him, and what remained were stale dregs of shame and sadness. He drew his knees up and hid his battered face in his lap, unable to meet Kurt's eyes, once filled innocence. Now they burned with an unfamiliar, unfriendly rage that unsettled- no, _scared-_ Blaine. And it was all his damn fault.

He took a deep breath and raised his head. "There is a better person underneath, I swear," he said in a low voice.

"Mhm." Kurt glared at him.

Blaine shook his head. "This is why I hang out with only Brittany and Santana," he sighed. "I let my temper get in the way of friendships- well, ex-friendships. Hell, I let my temper get in the way of _everything._" He rubbed his temples anxiously. "I am so, so sorry, Kurt. I don't think I'd take it if you were _this _mad at me."

Kurt didn't say a word. He plopped down on the bench next to the bruised boy, crossed a leg and looked at him. "Blaine Anderson, you are a two-faced menace. I'd love to forgive you, but I lost my best friends due to your attitude, you know? _That's _why I called you here."

"You mean the Poison-Voiced Harpy and the-" Blaine winced. "Sorry."

Kurt glared at him. "Consider yourself lucky I'm choosing to ignore that insult." Then he took a deep breath and explained what happened in study hall. The snappiness. The neglected sleepovers. The text messages. Rachel in tears.

When Kurt finished, Blaine didn't look sorry. Or guilty. Or anything along those lines. He looked absolutely _disgusted. _"Your two so-called '_best friends' _are even worse than me," he said crossly.

Kurt wasn't sure if he was hearing right. "What do you m-"

"So you finally stand up for yourself and _this _is how they treat you? They're not being fair! You can't just walk around doing whatever they like!"

Kurt was dumbfounded. Blaine was saying something _right- _but wait, it was still his fault too. "But that text about the dildo made her really upse-"

"She had it coming," Blaine said firmly. "I mean, come on! If you prance around complaining about solos or Finn or whatever for such an impossible extent that everyone feels like strangling you, wouldn't you _expect _pranks like that to happen?"

_He's right… _Kurt thought, biting his lip.

"And don't they let you hang out with whoever you like?" Blaine pressed on, watching Kurt's expression turn from angry to thoughtful. "Just because they're your best friends doesn't mean they HAVE to pin you down every damn Friday for a sleepover. Heck, they even pin you down every single day of the week- as their P.E partner, at the same after-school clubs, at their lunch table, at their every single table for that matter…"

Kurt felt like he'd been stuck in a tight, dark tunnel for ages, and now Blaine's very words were making him see a bright opening for the first time ever. Rachel and Mercedes _have _been unfair. And selfish. And needy. "Y- you're right," Kurt said thoughtfully.

"I know," Blaine said proudly. "Now you should go find those two and demand an apology!"

"Yeah," A feeling of determination made Kurt sit up straighter. "I will!"

Blaine looked at Kurt, with his sparkling blue eyes, chin in the air, a firm look on his face, yelling at Blaine just moments ago. Not the shy Kurt that Blaine met at the Lima Bean five weeks ago who blushed, ducked his head and wouldn't speak for himself.

"I'm glad I've brought out the person underneath _you, _Kurt," Blaine said softly.

That's it. He couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Kurt's face and pulled him forward, smashing their lips together. Their noses bumped, their teeth collided, but Blaine couldn't care less. Blaine kissed him deeply, and at first Kurt was too shocked to respond but he pulled it together and began to kiss him back. His lips were soft, supple, and had a thin layer of chapstick. The feel of them against Blaine's split, bruised lip made him want to moan.

It was slow, it was messy, it was in the boys' locker rooms, but Kurt and Blaine couldn't have wished for a better first kiss.

* * *

Kurt strode through the near-empty hallway, head in the air. Two figures huddled by an opened locker: one small and petite, wearing a hideous printed dress and knee-length socks. The other was bigger, with smooth dark skin, leopard print tights and yellow high-tops. Checkmate.

"Hello there," Kurt said airily as soon as he stopped by the locker.

"Hey Kurt," Mercedes said quietly.

Rachel didn't look his way, but continued huffily stuffing books into her bag.

"I'm glad _someone _acknowledges my existence," Kurt put his hands on his hips, his burning gaze landing straight on Rachel. When she didn't respond, he rolled his eyes and huffed, "Okay! Rachel, Mercedes, I demand an apology."

Rachel slammed her locker shut. "I think _you _should apologize to _us!_" she suddenly cried.

Kurt raised a finger. "Nuh uh uh," he tsked. "First of all, I can hang out with whoever I like on Fridays, _including _Blaine. I'm not following you two around doing everything you want like an obedient puppy anymore, okay? Secondly, Blaine's not a bad influence; I'm just standing up for myself. And it's not fair that you treat me like THIS when I finally do so. Lastly, Rachel, you should _expect_ more insults and pranks and slushies if you keep acting like a spoilt brat. Do I make myself clear?"

Rachel's eyes were on her Mary-Janes, a curtain of hair covering her face. Mercedes had her arms crossed, lips pursed.

She was the first one to respond with a sigh and a, "You're right, Kurt. We _have _been unfair, haven't we, Rachel?"

Rachel took a deep, deep breath and raised her head. "Although I hate being wrong, I have to admit now that you're the right one here."

"True that," Mercedes followed, nodding. "We're really sorry."

Kurt smiled. "I'm glad you understand guys, I really am. Now come on," he spread his arms. "Group hug!"

The figure in a bowtie and suspenders at the end of the hallway watched, smiling, as grins spread on the three friends' faces. Newly reunited they hugged, laughing the tension from their fight away. The figure turned and walked away to give them privacy, his first kiss still tingling on his lips.


	16. Seeing Stars

**Chapter 16**

**Seeing Stars**

"This week's assignment is…"

Sam drum-rolled on the back of Sugar's chair, making her squeal, "_stop it, _Trouty!" like an angry hamster. Blaine wanted to make a snippy comment on how Artie was attracted to rodents, but he held his tongue between his teeth and willed himself not to say a word. How the hell was Worm Wig- erm, Mr. Schue- so _tolerant?_

"…_stars!_" the Glee coach finished off, capping his pen. "Quick! What's the first thing that comes to mind?"

"Broadway," Rachel sighed dreamily.

"Fame and fortune," piped up Tina.

"My reflection," Blaine said bluntly. Kurt slapped his shoulder playfully.

"Nicholas Cage," Sam joked, earning a sigh from Quinn. "Just kidding."

"Those twinkling things in the sky that come at night time," Brittany said with a poker-face. "They call them stars but I think they're Rolex watches."

Mr. Schuester clapped his hands. "You see? All of you have your own unique definitions of 'stars.' Some of them are probably _you. _Now I want you to come up with a group number that shows just that- how you're _all_ rising stars."

_Deep shit, _Blaine thought sarcastically, almost saying it out loud.

"Kurt and Blaine, since you did so well last week, how would you like to take the leads?" Mr. Schuester looked at them expectantly.

Rachel made a choked sound. "But I-" she bit her lip and looked down. Finn tilted his head at her in questioning. _Uh, _hello? _Earth to solo-monster Rachel? _His expression read.

Blaine didn't realize he was wringing his hands, and stuffed them into his pockets. "Actually, Mr. Schue, I think Rachel should take the lead," he said, forcing a strained smile. "Since her trademark is gold stars, right Kurt?"

Kurt smiled warmly. "Yes, absolutely!"

The New Directions were mute with shock. _What's up with you? _Santana mouthed, digging Blaine's side. But she looked more… _surprised_ than irritated. Rachel, meanwhile, had adopted an expression of astonishment, her brown eyes wide and blinking.

"Wh-What?" she protested, stumbling over her own words. "No, you-"

"Just take the leads God damn it," Blaine snapped.

She paused at first, but then a huge grin spread over her face. Rachel Berry was _not _about to let this offer pass. "Thank you so much guys!" she gushed.

Before she could burble anything else Mr. Schuester raised a palm to shut her up. "It's decided!" he nodded, looking slightly surprised. "Now come on, get those songs rolling!"

Kurt looked at Blaine proudly. "Brofist?"

"Brofist," Blaine agreed, giving him a fist-pump. It felt rather… strange… to be _this _nice to people. But Blaine _could_ get used to it. Oddly enough.

* * *

"My dad's at a party with his colleagues. Won't be back 'till midnight…"

Kurt tried to focus on stuffing the right books into his bag, and _not _onBlaine's lips next to his ear, warm breath on his neck, whispering in that deep voice of his. Kurt inhaled deeply, trying not to hyperventilate.

"…So why don't you come over?" Blaine finished.

Kurt's Geography textbook almost slipped from his fingers. "U- um," he stammered, fumbling with the stupid thing. "Well, what are we going to do there, exactly? Homework…?"

"Whatever you want," Blaine smirked. Kurt swallowed, his face burning. Then the shorter boy took a step back and said sheepishly, "Well… I like baking. Do you?"

Kurt burst into giggles. "Yes, yes, I like baking!" he shook his head, slamming his locker shut.

Blaine looked hopeful. "And maybe we can have a movie marathon or something…"

"Yeah, I'd like that," Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. "Hold on, let me call my dad to tell him I'll be at yours."

* * *

"Boom!" Blaine declared, raising his wooden spoon in the air as if it was a sword and he was King Arthur. Cupcake batter splattered over Kurt's face and on the tiled floor. "All mixed!"

"Blaine," groaned Kurt, wincing. There was a drop of batter on the tip of his nose.

"My bad," Blaine said impishly. He leaned forward and licked the batter right off. "Dayum!" Blaine licked his lips. "This tastes good! C'mere so I can eat more off your face!"

Kurt squealed and ducked out of Blaine's way. He dipped a finger in the batter and quickly ran it along the space above Blaine's lips. "Since when did you have a moustache?" he giggled.

Blaine made a duck face. "Check me out, I'm Miss McCauley," he drawled, striking a very unflattering pose.

Kurt was trying not to bite his finger as he sucked the batter off. "What a sight for sore eyes," he snorted.

"Look who's talking," Blaine said huskily. _Must _Kurt tease him like this? He bent forward to try and kiss him, but he slipped on the batter on the floor. "Yikes!" he yelped, grabbing the counter- and simultaneously upsetting the mixing bowl.

"Holy shit!" Kurt cried, grabbing it from teetering off the edge.

"I'm not normally _this _bad, I swear," Blaine protested. But it was hard to take him seriously when he was covered head to tie in flour and cookie mix.

By the time those two had finished mopping the floor, dusting all floured surfaces and dusting _themselves, _the cookies were done. As Kurt took a bite and let the warm, gooey, chocolaty mess ooze in his mouth, memories as sweet as the cookies flooded back in his mind. He even thought he smelt Elizabeth's lavender perfume- almost.

"Moulin Rouge first," Blaine said, closing the slot of his DVD player and turning the TV on.

"No arguments," Kurt agreed, snapping out of his thoughts. He was here, he was in the present, and he was going to enjoy it. It would just make him depressed to think of the past.

The two boys watched their favorite movie intently, munching on cookies from Mrs. Hummel's legendary recipe. Blaine's room was dark- the only light coming from the TV- and just the right temperature. He and Kurt sat on the couch, amid pillows and blankets and cookie crumbs. It was quiet, it was peaceful, and overall enjoyable.

But 2 movies later Blaine didn't really think so. Kurt's body heat was _much _too distracting. Blaine looked over at him- his flawless face contoured with shadows, television light dancing off his deep blue eyes. Blaine yawned and put his arm around Kurt's shoulders, cuddling him close. Kurt didn't pay any attention, and continued quietly humming Mama Mia along with the movie.

"I'm _bored,_" Blaine droned, dropping his head onto Kurt's shoulder. Kurt shushed him, eyes still fixed on the screen.

Blaine gave him a peck the cheek. Kurt sighed and tried to pull away. "Lemme watch."

"How 'bout a kiss?" Blaine tempted. "Just one?"

"No," Kurt said firmly.

Blaine lifted his legs off the coffee table in front of him and draped them over the sofa so he was sitting on Kurt's lap. "Pwease?" He pouted, draping his arms around the taller boy's neck.

"Go away," Kurt protested, but even in the dim room you could see his cheeks were reddening.

"Not gonna happen," Blaine said stubbornly.

"_Blaine_-"

"Nope."

"Fine fine _fine. _Geez."

Kurt gave Blaine a quick peck on his lips, but Blaine tightened his grip around the other boy's shoulders and pulled him in for another one. Kurt protested that he was going to miss his favorite song in the movie, trying to pull away, but Blaine held him firm. Eventually Kurt just relaxed into the kiss, feeling the familiarity of Blaine's lips, his thoughts drifting off into the clouds. Kurt pulled him closer, not giving two fucks about the movie anymore. He pushed Blaine down on the sofa, inching himself over him, kicking the blankets and pillows away. _Now we're talking, _Blaine thought, loving the giddy feeling he got when he was _this_ intimate with Kurt. His hands loosened their grip from Kurt's hair- now messy and tousled- down to his back, fingers tugging at his jacket. In a second it ended up on the floor, and Blaine was marveling at Kurt's smooth, pale arms.

"Damn," he breathed.

"Oh you," Kurt poked him, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin. He bent his flushed face to kiss Blaine again.

_Clunk. _All of a sudden he grew tense, and pulled away quickly. "What was that?" he hissed, panicked.

"What?" Blaine asked, frowning.

_Slam. _"Blaine!" called a deep voice from downstairs.

"Oh shit," Blaine's face grew pale. "Kurt, get up. Up up up. Quick!"

**(A/N) **I apologize for those of you who were excited for the boy-sex to come on. Yeah, you know who you are! ;) But I swear, you WILL get your fill- eventually. This story was rated M for a reason that wasn't only swearing and violence! And just so you know, some shit's going dooooowwwwnnn in the next chapter. Take a guess!


	17. Breathe

**Chapter 17**

**Breathe**

Kurt scrambled off Blaine's sofa, his clothes rumpled, hair sticking up in all directions, a patch of flour clinging to his shirt. "What's your dad doing home so early?" he whispered, eyes wide.

"I don't know, but if he finds out I let a boy into my room- _without permission-_" Blaine drew a finger across his throat. "I'm DEAD."

"Blaine! Where are you...?" Devon's shoes could be heard clunking up the steps.

Blaine looked around the room frantically, then grabbed Kurt's arm and pulled him towards his closet. "In here! Hurry!"

Kurt parted away hangers of Blaine's clothing and dove between them, heart beating like a drum.

"Don't make a sound and _don't _come out until I tell you to," Blaine ordered. His hazel eyes were almost lunatic with fear.

Kurt nodded, swallowing. He was left in darkness except for a crack of light coming from the very slightly agape door, just enough to give him oxygen. He crouched into a tight ball, hugging his knees, willing himself not to move. He breathed in the smell of Blaine's enticing cologne, trying to calm his frenzied heart.

_Slam. _"There you are, you-" Devon's voice. "I smell something rather… sickly sweet…"

"Oh… Dad… I've made uh, I've made cookies…" Blaine stammered nervously.

"What a girl," Devon scoffed. Kurt's mouth dropped open. "Listen up, girly- the party was cancelled; I'm cold, mad and hungry. So give me some." A pause. "Finished all that? On your own? Fatass. Go make me something _else _to eat. NOW."

Kurt clamped his hands over his mouth, almost gasping out loud. What was Mr. Anderson saying? Why was he talking to his son that way? Was he drunk?

"Yes, Dad," Blaine said obediently.

"Hold it!" Devon yelled angrily. Kurt almost jumped out of his skin. "I never saw you wear this…" Devon's voice suddenly dropped to a soft growl.

_Is it…? _Kurt's level of panic was rising.

"Oh um, I uh, bought that today. Like, after school…" Blaine said in a jittery manner.

"Huh. Funny thing is, I saw _Kurt _wearing this…"

_Oh shit, it _is _my jacket! _Kurt had trouble breathing as he recalled the first time he met Devon in the auditorium- he'd had on _that_ very garment.

"Oh! _That _jacket! Heh! I uh, sort of borrowed it from him…?"

A sound of fabric hitting the floor. "Tell me, _son,_" Devon spat out the word as if it were bile. "Are you and Kurt… _more _than just duet partners?"

"W-Well, we _are _friends…"

"-with benefits?"

Kurt bit on his tongue so hard he was surprised there wasn't any blood.

A choked sound. "D-Dad, I swear-"

"Do you think I'm stupid, Blaine?" Devon's menacing voice chilled Kurt to the bone. "Do you think I believe you baked those stupid cookies by yourself? Do you think I believe you watched lame-ass movies by yourself? Do you think I believe you stayed home by yourself? And _do_ _you_ _think_ I believe that Kurt wasn't here all this time I was gone? Blaine… there are _two_ blankets on the sofa."

"I was cold," Blaine whispered.

"No you weren't," Devon whispered back. "You were with your _FUCK_ _BUDDY!_"

There was a noise of something crashing to the floor and an "Oof!"

Kurt gasped out loud this time, but it was barely heard over Devon yelling, "You're coming with me!"

"D-Dad!" Blaine gasped brokenly. "No!"

_What's happening?! _Kurt clenched Blaine's garments around him, breathing in gasps like he had asthma. _What are they doing?!_

There was a crashing sound, outside of the room this time, and Blaine yelling in pain.

"You've broken my rules!" Devon shouted.

"No I haven't!" Blaine yelped. "Ah! God damn-"

Another crash. "Are you happy, girly? ARE YOU HAPPY?"

A wail. "Please, stop! No, no, don't-"

_He's hurting him! _Kurt kicked open the door, a cool rush of air hitting the stifling wardrobe. He crawled out as fast as he could and stumbled to his feet, his knees aching from crouching for too long, but right now it didn't matter. He ran across the room like a blind puppy, searching for something, _anything, _that could serve useful. _Oh my God oh my God oh my God what do I do should I call the police no Blaine would be dead by then I have to distract Mr. Anderson somehow and holy crap I can't believe he'd do this to his own son okay focus focus focus I NEED a weapon… ah! _Kurt lunged over to Blaine's bedside table and unplugged his lamp from its socket. If Kurt could hit Devon hard enough with it, he could be knocked out enough for Kurt to call the .

He advanced towards the bedroom door, lamp in his shaking hands. He wasn't even sure if he would come out of this alive or not, but he _had _to do this- for Blaine. _Oh, Blaine, _Kurt choked down a sob. The Warblers didn't give Blaine those bruises- his _dad _did. How long had he kept this a secret? How long had he suffered? And how long would it be until it all stopped?

_Now, _Kurt thought firmly with gritted teeth, even though he was all a jangle of jittery, frightened nerves. He wanted to slap himself for not being able to help sooner- but Blaine didn't exactly give him any hints. Kurt couldn't blame him though- he must have been way, _way _more scared than he was right now. And Kurt was pretty damn scared.

The ruckus had grown crazier. Blaine's cries of pain made Kurt's heart break, and Devon's threats added to his shivers. As Kurt threw his hand on the doorknob, everything… stopped.

"That'll teach you," Devon grunted.

"No!" Kurt flung the door wide open, his terror reaching its peak. When he saw the scene before him, his heart dropped like a cold, heavy stone. A figure at the foot of the stairs. Limbs splayed out. Eyes closed. Immobile. Devon with his hands on his hips, looking down at the body. His expression darkly proud as if he just won a battle.

Rage prickled through Kurt's skin and seeped down to his bone, travelling from the tips of his hair down to his toes. He wanted to kill this cruel, disgusting man just as he had killed Blaine's dignity. He gripped both hands on the shaft of the lamp and raised it above his head. With gritted teeth he brought the lamp down as fast as lightning and struck Mr. Anderson's skull with a gut-wrenching _crack_.

"Unh!" Devon grasped his head in pain, shards of lightbulb dotting his curls. His eyes rolled into his head, his legs gave way and he teetered onto the banister. Kurt backed away slowly. His plan had _worked. _When he was sure Devon was completely knocked out he dove straight back into Blaine's room and ran for the phone.

A roar of rage from behind almost made Kurt's heart explode. He whirled around to see a fist right before it punched him straight on the bridge of his nose. Blinded with pain and shock, Kurt stumbled, one hand on his swelling face. A sharp elbow knocked him to the ground, back smashing painfully against the hardwood floor. Kurt groaned and blinked rapidly, the stars dancing around his vision fading. A pair of hazel eyes locked manically into his, filled with wrath and hysteria. Kurt gasped and tried to break free, but Devon pinned down his arms and pressed a knee to his stomach, enabling him from wrenching away.

"Time to take care of _you, _Barbie," Devon sneered. His breath stank of stale beer.

"Let me g- ah!" Kurt cried out in pain as a palm slapped his cheek.

"Not 'till I'm through with you." Another, harder slap. "Do you like how that feels, punk?"

"You're a monster!" Kurt twisted and writhed against Devon's grip to no luck.

"Holy shit, you're annoying!" Mr. Anderson snapped. Suddenly he let go of Kurt's arms and clamped them around… his neck. And squeezed and squeezed and squeezed.

Kurt gasped and panted brokenly as he fought for every shred of oxygen that could go through his tightening windpipe. Dark spots tainted his vision, growing bigger by the second. His lungs screamed at him for air, air _air_- but there was nothing Kurt could do.

_I'm sorry, Blaine, I'm sorry… _tears leaked down his face. But there was no one there to wipe them away. No one ever will.

"Aw, you wee liddle baby, are you crying?" Devon fake-pouted.

A flash of images passed through Kurt's foggy mind, giving him a headache. _"Barbie Doll." A swollen nose. Teary eyes. "Aw, the widdle baby's crying." A mock pout, and then… "OW!"_

With the last shred of energy his oxygen-lacked body could gather, Kurt lifted up a shaking leg and slammed it straight into Devon's groin, just like he did to Sebastian. He cried out in pain and let go of Kurt's neck, losing his balance and crumpling down to the rug. Kurt took violent, gasping breaths, his lungs hungry for air. The spots in his eyes disappeared as he rubbed them, yet he ached all over. But that couldn't be helped. Devon _himself _could be, if Kurt was quick enough.

He grabbed the back of the sofa and dragged himself upright, legs buckling, limbs heavy, and stumbled to- to- what was he supposed to do _now?! _

"You little shit!" Devon screamed, his arms flailing to grab Kurt's ankle.

Kurt darted out of the way. Nuh uh, no way in hell was he going to be caught again. Geez, Mr. Anderson was _fast. _How was Kurt going to stop him long enough to- ah…

_This isn't going to work, _his conscience told him as he seized one end of the rug. _Yes it is! _He fought back. _You're an idiot. No I'm not! It's a stupid idea. Just _shut up_ God damn it! _

"What the hell are you-" Devon tried to get to his feet, but a flap of rug slammed into his face. "HEY!"

Kurt placed his foot on the rolled carpet- with Devon yelling unintelligible things at him from inside it- and kicked it hard enough for it to bang against the wall. There was a _clunk _as Devon's head came in contact with the hard surface… and then all was silent.

Kurt's knees were weak. He was shaking. His face was stinging. He was almost choked to death. The man that had caused all that was now knocked out and wrapped in a carpet. Kurt buried his face in the back of the sofa as wave after wave of tears soaked into the material, his shoulders heaving with violent sobs. He had never felt so scared, so abused, so filthy, and so _alone _with nobody to help him. Above all, Kurt felt so, so guilty- Blaine _was _a brave character, dealing with this shit everyday and not going insane.

_Blaine. _

Kurt flew out the room and down the stairs, not even sure his feet were touching the steps. When he saw the unmoving boy on the floor, he stifled a cry. Blaine's body was twisted in unnatural, grotesque positions. There were countless bruises on his face, of course- but the amount of blood made Kurt's eyes sting with tears and the smell of it. His swollen eyes were closed. Figure unmoving. Was he… _dead?_

Kurt cried silently as he held one of Blaine's hands in his and felt for a pulse. _Please let him be okay…_

__**(A/N) **I know you all LOOOOOOVEEED that cliffhanger I gave you last chapter, so here's another one! (Please don't kill me...)


	18. Waking

**Chapter 18**

**Waking**

**(A/N) **Warning: very long chapter. Enjoy, my pretties.

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night…_"

A soft, delicate voice, lost in the distance.

"_Take these broken wings and learn to fly._"

The voice seemed clearer now. More broken, more tired…

"_All your life,_"

… but beautiful all the same.

"_You were only waiting for this moment to arise._"

In the beginning, the deep chasm of darkness was absolutely frightening. There were no walls, or floors, or ceilings- just vast, empty space. And absolutely _no_ light whatsoever. But there were voices. Voices floating distantly, so infuriatingly out of reach. The first ones were deep, quiet and commanding, with beeps (an alarm? A phone? A heart monitor?) in the background. They talked in low tones about fractures, concussions, internal damage, that sort of stuff. But why? What were they doing?

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night…_"

But eventually, those voices only appeared once a day or so, and new ones came in. A group of males and females were there frequently, chatting over each other about their day. One of the boys loved to talk in different voices, much to the groans of the others. One of the girls with a husky voice was exceedingly sarcastic, snapping to another girl who talked way too enthusiastically. It was strangely amusing to hear what they were going to blabber about next, and a rather large group made such friendly company.

_"Take these sunken eyes and learn to see."_

Then there was _that _voice. Ever present, it was a comfort; so sweet, so soothing. When it sang, it turned into an angel. Maybe it _was _an angel- no other creature could possess such a voice. But did angels speak with sad, broken undertones? And did they cry, from sniffs to snuffles to weeping to full-on sobs? The sound of it was absolutely heart-wrenching, and not being able to just take one _peek _at whomever it was hurt even more so. What tragic thing would make an _angel _so destroyed?

"_All your life,_"

I repeat: in the beginning, the deep chasm of darkness was absolutely frightening. But now, it was changing. The voice seemed more audible now- like it was growing closer. It was with a snail's pace, but it was still _something. _

"_You were only waiting for this moment to be free._"

So close… the singing was so damn nearer than ever. Simultaneously, the helpless feeling of floating through space seemed to slow down, like the air was growing thicker until everything was just frozen and suspended. But… no! The air wasn't growing thicker! And the chasm… it wasn't endless; it had a soft yet definitely solid bottom.

"_Blackbird fly, blackbird fly._"

What was that tingly feeling slowly creeping in? And that dull, numb ache? Had it been a painful fall through the pit? What the hell was _happening? _

"_Into the light of the dark black night._"

And that's when the black pit morphed into dim, yellowish lights. Lights! Drab as they were, it was a miracle! And that- it was a ceiling! So the black hole wasn't so deep after all! And was that… a chair? Ah, with that numb, stiff ache, it would feel so _good_ to just drop onto it and take a rest. Yeah, that sounded amazi- Huh?Why… why was his body so- so- _rigid?_

"Blaine?!" The angel whispered, sounding startled and caught off-guard. The angel was _right in that room!_ "Blaine…!" Now he was crying again, harder than ever. But this time, they were tears of relief.

* * *

"How long was I out?" Blaine asked hoarsely. His face was ghostly pale and bony from nothing but a diet of IV tubes.

"Eight days," Kurt sighed. Dark bags hung from his bloodshot, droopy eyes.

Blaine looked weakly at him, neck hurting from the slight movement. "Well I… I think I'm r-ready to…" he paused to cough wheezily.

Kurt delicately took Blaine's thin hand in his. "If you don't want to talk about it right now," he said softly with a tired, tender gaze. "You don't have to. You really don't."

Blaine breathed shallowly as he looked at his bandaged ankle. The rest of his injuries were covered by a white sheet, but he knew perfectly what was under. Two broken ribs. A handful of torn ligaments. A million and one bandages that covered God-knows-what kind of wounds. And on top of that, a _coma. _Blaine turned his gaze back to Kurt. He seemed to have aged a decade- he wore a wrinkled hoodie and jeans, his hair lay flat on his head, his face was drawn and serious, and only his voice and eyes held any trace of emotion. Worst of all were the faint bruises- on his neck. All of these were consequences because Blaine had kept a secret- _that _secret- and hadn't spoken out sooner.

"No," he decided. "I can't keep this in the dark anymore. I- I can't. Look what happened when I didn't."

"Are you sure you want to go into that topic?" Kurt said, concerned. "It's only been two days since the coma… you may still be pretty weak…"

"I don't care," Blaine snapped. (Well, it was a good attempt.)

Kurt looked at him for a long, long time. Finally, he took a deep breath in and nodded solemnly. "When you're ready."

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _The heart monitor chanted humbly in the background.

"Right from the start, my dad never liked me," Blaine closed his eyes, bracing himself for the wave of fuzzy memories he had tried so hard to lock away. "I was too much of a reminder of- of my mom. Looking at school photos, he said I had her smile. Hearing me play piano, he said I had her ability. But he wasn't too happy about it- he'd- he'd hit me. That's why I was so bent on you keeping my piano skills a secret the day when we sang those songs... I think they were the Queen ones… agh…" Blaine sighed heavily. "Sorry, the coma fucked with my head."

Kurt squeezed his hand, a look of grim understanding on his face. He was bracing himself as well.

"Anyway. I can't remember when all this started, it _that_ far back. But Dalton Academy, and the Warblers, and coming out… ninth grade was the last straw. He- he- oh," Blaine groaned. "It escalated quickly from then on. Knives. Chains. Ropes. I was threatened with a gun too…" he let out a choked sob.

Kurt gasped, but then got a hold of himself and cupped both hands around Blaine's bony one, which was so cold his blood may have been frozen.

Blaine clenched the sheets around him with his free hand trying to stop himself from shaking. His eyes were getting prickly. "I- I tried to please him. I really tried. I- I did the best I could at McKinley. But what did I do wrong? Why was he still hurting me? Was I not good enough? _Was I not good enough?!_"

"Stop," Kurt told him firmly. Inside, his heart was breaking, but he had to be strong. For Blaine. "You're _perfect_- he was just so wrapped up in himself to notice."

"BUT WHY DID HE HAVE TO HURT _YOU?!_" Blaine shouted, seething. His calloused throat shouted back in protest, and he fell into a fit of ferocious, angry coughing. "W- w- why- y- you…?"

Kurt bit his trembling lip. "Ssh, don't, please," he whispered, absent-mindedly touching his throat. "I'm fine now, I swear."

"But I'm not," Blaine whispered. He turned his face away, sniffing.

Spiteful, intimidating, unapproachable former Cheerio captain Blaine Anderson was _crying_. And Kurt let him. He shushed the injured boy, stroked his shuddering shoulders, murmured words of comfort. He was a broken, angry boy and letting the tears fall was one way of helping.

"I was so scared," Blaine whimpered brokenly, blinking his red-rimmed eyes. "That he was going to slither out of the situation if I let the cat out of the bag. And _then_ what would he do to me? I was so, so scared…"

"He's gone," Kurt said firmly, pressing a glass of water to Blaine's dry, split lips. "Behind bars. You're living with the Hudson-Hummels now. You'll be safe, I promise."

Blaine took a long gulp from the glass, a million responses swirling inside his aching head before he finally said, "You saved my life. Again."

"Don't worry about it," Kurt smiled weakly, setting the glass on the side-table.

_No, I _will _worry about it because you're the one who deserves all this kindness and not a selfish person like me, _Blaine wanted to say. Instead he blurted, "Kurt… I love you."

Kurt's face colored ever so slightly. "I- I love you too."

_Beep Beep. Beep. _A silence, but it was affectionate. Loving.

"Sing me to sleep?" Blaine finally returned Kurt's smile, even though it was feeble.

"Gladly."

Blaine closed his eyes with a sigh, stray curls stuck to his damp forehead that Kurt gently brushed away.

"_Made a wrong turn, once or twice. Dug my way out blood and fire. Bad decisions, that's alright. Welcome to my silly life. Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood…_"

Kurt's voice seemed to lull Blaine to sleep like a nice, warm blanket. He hadn't had such a nice sleep in years.

"_Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel, like you're less than, less than perfect._"

Blaine had tried so hard to be perfect, but…

"_Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel, like you're nothing, you are perfect to me._"

…accepting your flaws was the right way to do it.

* * *

_Ping! _

_New message from: Rachel_

_We're here! Room 10 right?_

Kurt felt breathless as his fingers flew over the keypad. _Yes come on! _He punched _send_.

"Who's that?" Blaine asked. He had improved over the days following his coma: he had regained his voice, had a little more color to his face and was even well enough to sit up in bed.

"Some very special people are here to see you," Kurt grinned.

"Who? Tell me!" Blaine demanded.

The door flew open. "What's up motherfuckers? Puckerman's in the _house!_"

Blaine's face was a mixture of horror and surprise. "P-Puck?" he spluttered. Miraculously, he was never so glad to see his sex-addicted player of a friend before.

"More like _New Directions _in the house!" Mercedes announced sassily, standing guard at the door with one hand on her hip.

"W- What?" Blaine watched in amazement as one by one, the Glee club filed in: Artie, Tina, Sugar, Finn, Rachel, Santana, Mike, Brittany- the whole lot. They were all talking at once: congratulating him on the speedy recovery, telling him dirty jokes (Puck), nattering on about what he missed, asking whether he had wet dreams when in a coma (Puck again), and overall greeted him as an old friend. It was loud, it was noisy, it was boisterous- but Blaine had never felt more at home.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see you guys again!" Blaine exclaimed, laughing.

"Well well well, Gay Anderson, you should just be glad you're confined to this hospital bed or we would be up to some serious ass-kicking," Santana shot back, but she was smiling.

"And we'd like to sing a song about it," Kurt interjected. "About… what happened."

Blaine blinked. "Wait. You all… to sing… for me?"

The New Directions settled down around Blaine's bed, their expressions reading, _yeah!_

"But I treated you all like- like shit." Blaine ducked his head down like Kurt did when he was either abashed or embarrassed.

"Though we understand why," Rachel said gently.

"We might not understand as much as you do, dude, but we have some idea," Finn nodded.

"But-"

"_Step one you say we need to talk,_" Kurt sang before Blaine could protest any further. "_He walks you say sit down it's just a talk._"

"_He smiles politely back at you, you stare politely right on through,_" Santana continued.

"_Some sort of window to your right, he goes left and you stay right,_" Brittany followed.

"_Between the lines of fear and blame, and you begin to wonder why you came,_" Kurt sighed.

"_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend somewhere along the bitterness,_" The New Directions sang in soft, solemn harmony, their faces kind.

"_And I would have stayed up with you all night had I known how to save a life._"

Blaine felt like something inside him had opened up, pooling warmly inside him like freshly-made hot chocolate. Had he _really _once upon a time hated these people? They were so caring, so considerate… he was almost disgusted at himself for ever scorning them. Sure, Sugar might have popped a few eardrums in her lifetime and sure, Rachel was a stroppy diva. But Sugar couldn't help that her voice was so high; she was born with it and it didn't seem to get to her, which was a good thing. And Rachel couldn't help that she annoyed everyone by fighting for solos; she was just ambitious, which was again a good thing.

As the song drew to a close, Blaine realized tears were streaking freely down his face. He also realized that the whole of New Directions, especially Kurt, had saved his life.

**(A/N) **'Perfect' was requested by SweetNEvil1 and 'How to Save a Life' by Ilikerandomthingssodontjudgeme. Great choices, you two. They fit perfectly into the story!


	19. Visitors Unwanted

**Chapter 19**

**Visitors Unwanted**

**(A/N) **Guys guys guys. Take a breather. I know some of you were disappointed at the lack of drama in this story's last chapter, but seriously, it doesn't end there. And for those of you who thought the story was going to finish, oh _hell no! _There are still other things (like the Warblers) for Kurt and Blaine to take care of. Your expectations will be filled; just bear with me. After all, you guys ARE my pretties, and I would do anything for you!

Blaine slung his bag onto his shoulder and exited the locker rooms. Phew. _What _a grueling Cheerio practice! If Coach Sylvester kept making Blaine stand on one leg at the top of the triangle one more time, he's going to break his newly-healed ankle again. And he _wasn't _about to hobble around the school with crutches looking like an idiot for a second time. Plus, everybody's drawings and signatures looked ugly on his cast. No offence.

Somewhere down the hallway were distinct Spanish insults. Ah, _there_ was Santana.

"Hey," Blaine said, catching up to her.

"Fuck off," Santana spat to the poor soul she was yelling at, then turned around. "So what do _you_ want, Gay Anderson?"

"I was just wondering, do we have Glee club this week?" Blaine asked, and winced. "Yeesh, it's like the coma's given me short-term memory or something."

Santana's (rather permanent) scowl deepened. "What are you _talking _about?"

Blaine waved his hand over her face. "Hello? _Glee club? _Do we have it this week or not? I haven't seen Mr. Schue around lately, so I couldn't ask him…"

Santana slapped Blaine's hand away. "You're an idiot."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "No I'm not, Satan."

Santana crossed her arms. "So a person who claims to be in _Glee_ club, calls a hangover a _coma, _and thinks Mr. Spaghetti 'Do Schue is _still_ in school… is NOT an idiot?"

Blaine held his palms up. "Whoa, Santana, that's really low!"

Santana shoved him. "_You're _really low. Geez, did you really think I would fall for that lame-ass joke? Now if you'll excuse me-" she pushed past him. "-_I'm _heading to class."

_Well. _Blaine looked confusedly at the curled ponytail bobbing amongst the crowd of students. _Something's shoved up _her _butt. _

"Brittany!" he rushed over to the blonde at her locker. "What's up with Santana? She's- huh?" Blaine squinted inside Brittany's locker.

"Is there something wrong, Unicorn?" she asked casually, sliding a few books into her backpack.

"Um, what happened to that picture of the Glee club you stuck in there?" Blaine asked uneasily, pointing at the space in her locker that now contained a snapshot of the Cheerios.

Brittany tilted her head. "What do you mean?" Then her eyes widened in realization. "Oh no, has Lord Tubbington been offering you drugs?"

Blaine scratched his head. "Uh… no…" He was quite puzzled. Was this some kind of prank Santana and Brittany set up? "Listen, I- I gotta go."

_Screw class, _he thought as he hurried through McKinley High to the library. There, he skimmed over the section of yearbooks before yanking one out and dumping it on a table. The librarian's glare was ignored as he dropped onto a chair and began rifling through the glossy pages so hurriedly he dented a couple. _Aha! _At the top of the page in which was laid out in front of Blaine read 'Glee club 2009.' Someone had crossed out the 'l' and added in a 'k' so it tauntingly read, 'Geek club!' Below was a picture of the New Directions, which was thoroughly vandalized with thick black Sharpie. Blaine clenched his fists as he saw the various beards, moustaches, devil tails, 'NO DIRECTIONS!' and 'LOSERS!' scrawled all over the page. And whoever gave Kurt a skirt in that photo had five seconds to _run for their life_. Blaine took a deep breath. _Okay, what was I looking for again? Right. Brittany and Santana. _Only… they weren't in the photo.

"Enjoying your artwork, Anderson?" said a bitter voice.

"Eh?" Blaine looked up startled, to see Finn looking sourly at him. "What do you mean, Mayon- I mean, Finn?"

He ripped the yearbook away from Blaine's hands. "Don't even _think _of adding more facial hair on Rachel or anybody else. You've already done enough."

Blaine blinked. "You're saying _I _drew all of that shit?"

Finn scowled. "Don't act all innocent, because it's not working."

"But I-"

"And stay _away _from my step-brother, you hear?" With that, Finn shoved the yearbook into a random shelf and stalked out of the library.

Blaine sat there in his seat, absolutely rigid, thoughts hitting his head all at once. What… the… hell…? Why did Santana claim to never have gone to Glee club? She was there for more than three years. Why didn't Brittany have that picture in her locker anymore? It was the only photo (apart from ones of Santana) that made her smile. Why weren't both of them in the Glee club yearbook page? And _what the fuck _did Finn mean by 'stay away from my step-brother?' Geez, if Blaine was living with the Hudson-Hummels now Finn should at _least_ try to let him see his God damn boyfriend. And savior. Don't forget savior. Blaine _had _to see Kurt now and ask him what was up with Mayonnaise Face. And maybe get a kiss. Or two. In the janitor's closet. Naked. (Just kidding.)

Blaine jogged through the hallways of McKinley, the number of people slowly decreasing as everyone went inside their classes. What lesson did Kurt have now? Blaine scrunched up his face, rubbing his head. Agh… was it History? Or Geography, maybe? _Aw man, that coma's left me with amnesia… _he thought. Then he stopped right in his tracks.

"Hey!" Blaine yelled, running up to the boy in the football jersey, roughly dragging him back and shoving a fist inches away from his face. "Stop that _right now _or I'll rearrange your face, asshole!"

"Whoa, dude!" Rick 'the Stick' Nelson grinned held up his cup of Big Quench, half-filled with slushie. "If you wanted to finish him off, you shoulda just _asked_ me, man!"

Blaine slapped the cup out of his hands. The slushie made a red, lumpy stain on the floor. "Get your ass out of my sight," he snarled. "And slip on the slushie while you're at it so I can laugh at you."

Rick looked thoroughly confused. Blaine turned his back on the dumbass and regarded Kurt, his expression melting into concern. Kurt had the beverage plastered down his carefully-styled hair, streaking down his well-kept skin and seeping into his designer outfit which he'd probably taken all morning to pick out.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," Blaine extended a hand towards Kurt- who flinched back.

"Go away," he whispered.

"Huh?" Blaine blinked. "Kurt, are you okay?"

"Am I… okay?" Kurt started to look more angry than scared. "Am I… _okay?_"

"Whoa, whoa," Blaine took a step back. "What happened? Did I do something wrong?"

"Get away from me!" Kurt spat before whirling around and running through the empty corridor.

"Kurt!" Blaine bellowed. "Come ba-"

"Yeesh, what's with all the desperation?" said a voice from behind.

"You're still here?" Blaine yelled, grabbing Rick's collar and slamming him into the lockers with a bang. "And what the hell did you _do _to him?!"

"Me? Me!" Rick jeered. "Hah! _You're_ the one who pulled the prank that blew his chances of getting into NYADA, remember?"

"Stop lying," Blaine snarled. "Or I'll kill you. I swear to God I will _kill_ you!"

"What is up with you today, man?" Rick spat. "Don't you remember _anything?_"

Blaine's grip on Rick's collar loosened. There was a buzzing in his ears and he suddenly felt lightheaded. He _was _forgetting everything. When was the last time he and Kurt went on a date? What was the previous week's Glee assignment? What songs did he sing in the choir room this month? Did he and Kurt have a movie marathon yet?

Blaine huffed and pressed his fingers to his temples. There was a wailing in his aching head, and his mind felt fuzzy like static. "What has the coma _done _to me?" he muttered to himself.

"Or maybe I just hit you too hard," sneered a strange, distorted voice.

"What the…?" Blaine looked up- and almost heaved. Standing in Rick's place was a man, his dark curls standing up on end as if electrocuted. His features were disturbingly twisted: maniacal hazel eyes bugging out, lips stained a bloody red and stretching from ear to ear in a crazy, freakish grin. Blaine backed away slowly, shaking with fear, to slip and fall right into the puddle of slushie. It was warm, smelt metallic, and looked like the liquid dripping out of the laughing man's mouth.

Devon stretched out a ghostly white hand towards his son. His fingernails were pointy, yellow and cracked. "Just let me…" he licked his lips. "_Help_ you up…"

"No," Blaine scooted away, the liquid seeping into his pants and down to his very bones. "No. Don't."

"I'm only trying to _help_ you…" Devon advanced towards his son with crookedness, his body morbidly twitching this way and that. "…like a good _father._"

"No," Blaine choked. "No!" he yelped when Devon's cold hand curled around his arm. "Don't touch me!" he screamed.

Devon put his face right up close to his son's, breath tinged with beer and blood. "Oh, but I'm your father-" he tightened his grip on Blaine's arm. "-And I could do _whatever_ _I_ _want_."

"You're not my father!" Blaine yelled, thrashing around, but he felt paralyzed. "You're a MONSTER!"

* * *

"Blaine? Blaine!"

The boy woke up with a jolt. He was sweating profusely, pajamas sticky with it. His heart was beating wildly and he was trembling like a stray kitten on a cold winter's night. A face loomed over his, and for a second he thought it was '_him_' again, but the familiar blue eyes proved him wrong.

Blaine sat up suddenly despite the pain. "Are you mad at me?" he gasped. "Please tell me you're not mad at me."

Kurt looked worried, even though he was used to Blaine's nightmares and the questions that usually followed them. "Of course not," he said reassuringly.

"So- so I didn't ruin your chances of getting into NYADA?"

"Um… it's not even time to send in our college applications yet…"

"Do Brittany and Santana go to Glee club? Are they in the 2009 yearbook picture of the New Directions? Is Mr. Schue still in McKinley?"

What the hell kind of nightmare did Blaine just _have? _"Yes yes yes. Whatever happened was all a dream, don't worry."

The question that followed had been asked many, many times. "And… is _he _still… behind bars?"

"Of course."

Blaine sighed with relief. Yet he couldn't shake off the feeling that the crooked, monstrous man was standing behind Kurt and reaching for his neck, grinning with bloody lips.

"Listen, Blaine…" Kurt looked more uneasy than ever. "People are here to see you."

"Tell them to fuck off or something, I'm having a bad day," huffed Blaine, crossing his arms. "Unless it's Puck. He owes me five bucks."

Kurt shuffled from foot to foot nervously. "No, it's-"

The doorway creaked open. "Blaine?" said a voice.

Blaine took one look at his visitors and his brows furrowed immediately. "_Who_…_?_"

**(A/N) **Who indeed? Blaine's mom? Dad? Brother? Sebastian? Stay tuned for the next chapter to find out!


	20. Consider the Offer

**Chapter 20 **

**Consider the Offer**

**(A/N) **I'm sorry for the incredibly short chapter. There are so many tests this term it's almost illegal. Yeesh.

The door slowly shut with a soft _click. _One- no, _two_- figures advanced towards Blaine's bed and stood at the foot of it. Blaine himself frowned at his visitors and contemplated their unfamiliar appearances. The first person was a young man, maybe 23 or so. His crisp, dark t-shirt was slightly unbuttoned. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes so icy they were nearly grey. There was a firm 'I'm-the-boss-here' look on his face, but his eyes kept darting around uneasily. Next to him was a short, petite woman with a shawl around her thin shoulders. Her feminine face resembled the young man's, but hers was more aged, eyes saddened, hair streaked with tiny threads of grey. There was a weak, tired air about her, as if she spent her whole life working and fighting for something to only realize she will never get it.

_So… a male prostitute and his fed-up mother?_ Blaine thought. _But wait… how do they know my name?_ "Who are you?" he demanded immediately.

The frail woman walked forward slowly, cautiously. "Darcy…" she stretched out a thin, shaking arm like she wanted to touch the injured boy but was too afraid to, in case he bites. "Blaine, I don't mean to alarm you but I… I'm your mother."

It could have been hours of silence that passed as Blaine stared at this woman. This woman who abandoned him as soon as he was born. The woman who left him in the clutches of that monster. Blaine didn't know what to feel- like the walls were closing in on him, like the room was tipping over, like he was being thrown down the stairs again. But one thing was for sure- he wanted to hurt this woman-_his mother- _very, very badly. As much as _she _hurt _him. _

"Huh, I thought so, with a name like that- I always knew you were a porn star," Blaine scoffed. His mother flinched and withdrew her hand, hurt. Good. Pitiless, he turned his attention to the young man and tilted his head. "And you are?"

The man gritted his teeth, stalked closer to Blaine and jabbed a finger in his face. "You do _not _talk to your mother like that, do you hear?" he snarled. Any other person would sound like a father scolding their kid, but this guy sounded downright threatening.

"Cooper," warned the woman. Darcy. Blaine's mom. Whatever the hell you called her.

"She worked her _whole_ _life_ in hopes of meeting you," The man- Cooper- said in a low and warning tone. "But now that I'm in show business, she was finally able to see her own son and my God damn _brother._"

Blaine was stunned. So… he had a mother, who wanted to see Blaine 'her whole life' but couldn't afford it? He felt a spark of sympathy- but then his heart turned to stone. "Why did you leave me in the first place?" he spat. "You left me with- with _him… _and just look at what he's done to me!"

"Oh Blaine…" Darcy sighed somberly. "I escaped your father when Cooper was young… and I was pregnant with you. We struggled, living in a small apartment in Illinois, but when you were born… the need for money increased and I couldn't afford rent anymore. We were living on the streets." She swallowed and took a deep, shaky breath.

Blaine's eyes were wide. "Oh my God, please don't tell me he…"

"He found us. Two states away, but he found us." Mrs. Anderson let out a choked noise. "Got child authorities on our heels. He took my baby away from me- and kicked young Cooper into foster care. All with a click of his fingers."

Darcy held her shawl to her eyes as if it was a handkerchief, and Cooper moved over and wrapped his hand around hers. Blaine wanted to feel jealous at their relationship between parent and child that he never got, but he couldn't bring himself to it. He just _couldn't. _His mother, who ran away from her own husband that she thought she loved once upon a time for her and her kids' safety, only to fall into the trap of poverty and later, get her baby ripped away from her motherly hands and into the ones of a monster. And Cooper? One kick to the ass and _boom_ he was in foster care.

"But why?" Blaine whispered, slowly growing more horrified. "Why did he only take me? What kind of person in their sick mind would do that? _Why?_"

Cooper's icy eyes met his. "I was too much like our mother," he said grimly. "He wanted to make you a product of his _own. _Whelp, was he was _successful_. Just look at you: rude, unforgiving, the spitting image of the one who hurt us all-"

"You shut up!" Blaine shouted suddenly. "I used to judge people too, okay? And you know what? They actually turned out to be _important_ to me, so why don't you just take this IV tube over here and shove it up your-"

"Boys." Darcy's eyes were red-rimmed, but she spoke in a low, firm voice. "I did not come here to see my children fight. Cooper, you should know better. We came here to reconcile with _family, _not treat him like _this_. What has gotten into your head?"

Cooper leaned coolly against the footboard of Blaine's bed, staring at him long and hard. Blaine stared back as equally as resentfully. Finally, Cooper dropped down onto the sheets with a groan and hid his face into his hands.

"Watch the ankle!" Blaine warned.

"I'm sorry kid," Cooper admitted, huffing and shaking his head. "It's just that- through my career as an actor I was able to save our mom emotionally and financially- so we could come here to save _you. _But now it's… well, it's too late."

Darcy nodded in agreement.

"And it doesn't help that you look _just like him…_"

"Well thanks for reminding me," Blaine said bitterly.

"You have a right to hate me, brother," Cooper didn't look to happy as he said it, but he knew it was the truth. "But our mother and I want to make up all your years without a proper family. We really do."

Blaine narrowed his eyes questionably. "What do you… mean?"

"Son…" Darcy said softly. "We want you to move in with us."

Time seemed to have frozen. Blaine looked from brother to mother, back and forth, forth and back. '_We want you to move in with us_' whirled round and round his head. He was being given a chance at life again; a new home, a proper family- what was more to ask? His mother seemed like a caring, selfless person, going through so much just for the protection and wellbeing of her kids. And Blaine could get used to Cooper, couldn't he? I mean, he's only bitter because he'd gone through so much himself… just like Blaine. But their house was in Illinois- which was two states away from Ohio. That meant Blaine would have to leave McKinley, his friends, Glee club, _Kurt_…

"We know it's a big decision for you, dear," Darcy said softly, very lightly touching Blaine's hand. "If you want, we can leave you time to think about it. To consider our offer."

Two pairs of eyes locked expectantly onto Blaine's. He looked down, unable to meet them, and took a deep breath. "Don't worry about it. I've already decided."

**(A/N) **I guess you can completely expect what Blaine's going to say, right? Right. But what do YOU think: Lima or Illinois? Whatever it is, watch out, because I can do the opposite… Oh, and I'd like to wish my best friend Cat a happy 13th birthday! (Guys get out your handkerchiefs.) Gurrrl you are amazing and just everything I wanted in a friend. The rest, I'll write on the birthday card I forgot to give you. So happy birthday my pretty. I hope Alex gave you his D in a box. (wink wink nudge nudge… I MEAN COUGH COUGH.) Oh dear me my speech was so beautiful I'm crying. Geez.


	21. Coming Back

**Chapter 21**

**Coming Back**

**(A/N) **Happy 14th birthday to myself! (Well, yesterday, anyway.) The best present I could ever have is YOU guys. *Wipes eyes with handkerchief.* Oh God, I'm such a tearjerker, aren't I?

Blaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his tangled nerves. He gripped the edge of the hard, wooden bench tightly, knuckles whitening. As if refraining himself from jumping to his feet, grabbing his crutches, and stumbling out of the building as fast as his blasted ankle would take him. But Kurt and the Hudson-Hummels would be so disappointed. They believed in him, after all.

_Stay calm, _he thought, breathing hard. _Stay calm… please, God damn it… _

A door inside the cubicle opposite Blaine started to open. His first reaction was a quickening heart rate, immediate sweating, and shakes all over. Screw this, he wasn't calm- he was scared as _hell_. Slowly, oh so slowly, as if torturing him, the door swung open to reveal… a pillar of darkness. Blaine's brows furrowed in confusion. But then a figure emerged. A figure walking with crookedness, a manic glint in his eyes, a bloody smile. A figure that haunted Blaine's nightmares every single night. _It's not real, it's not real, it's not real… _Blaine closed his eyes, praying with every shred of his dignity that the thing would just go away.

After what seemed forever, when his racing heart slowed down and he stopped quivering, Blaine fearfully opened his eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief- then caught it again when he remembered who he was just about to deal with. A man in orange overalls sat slumped in the bench inside the cubicle. His hair was a clumpy mess, lips turned down somberly, eyes bloodshot. This guy was weak, broken and tired- not at _all _like that monster in Blaine's nightmares. He also certainly wasn't the crisp, put-together businessman he was at work. But also not the alcoholic, abusive person he became at home either. _This _man looked weary and sad, as if he was exhausted from being too many different people at once.

As Blaine saw this, a million emotions hit him at once. First of all realization, which made him freeze on the spot. Then when that ebbed away and his brain started to function- he was _angry_. This guy forced his wife into puberty. He threw his child into foster care. He practically stole his other kid. And almost _killed_ him. Blaine wanted to grab his crutches, smash through the wall of glass separating the cubicles and beat his father so hard with them, almost as hard as he hurt his own family. But no amount of pain would equal to that. Not at all.

With a hand trembling with a mix of fear and rage, Blaine ripped the telephone off its hook on the wall and clamped it to his ear. On the other side of the glass, Devon did the same in a slower manner. For a few moments father and son stared at each other, Blaine's bruised eyes filled with fury, Devon's miserable and fed-up.

Finally, one of them spoke. "Why are you here?" Devon asked in a barely audible voice.

Blaine took a deep breath and opened his mouth. "My therapist sent me here," he spat.

Devon tilted his head. "You have… a therapist?"

Blaine sneered. "Huh, I thought wouldn't be surprised from all the years you fucked me up."

His father sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Why did your- your _therapist _tell you to come here? The best thing to do is just forget about me…"

"Well apparently it isn't," Blaine snapped. "I've been getting weird-ass nightmares and hallucinations from the stuff you did to me, and she thinks that if I tie up any loose ends they'll go away. And _then _I'll be able to forget about you, son of a bitch." He breathed hard, his anger allowing him to tell his father things he wouldn't have _dared _say before.

Another long silence passed. Devon slumped in his seat, Blaine boiling up in his. He wanted to tell his dad so many things that sat at the tip of his tongue, ready to jump out and scarce the hearer with their bitterness and malice. But only one managed to come out.

"Why did you do it?" Blaine hissed. "Why?"

Devon's eyes couldn't manage to meet his son's. He balanced his head on one palm and stared absent-mindedly at the counter. "I don't know," he whispered eventually, seeming as if he was talking to himself. "Maybe I was just angry. Angry that my family was not good enough… but they are. I'm just a greedy man who wants everything."

"No kidding!" Blaine yelled. The policeman standing guard somewhere behind gave him a strange look that went unseen.

Devon came to the realization that his son was still there, and looked up at him with droopy eyes. "Right now all I want is to get out of jail… and have a second chance."

The nerve! Blaine's grip on the phone tightened. "You're never getting that second chance," he growled. "You never will."

"I know," Devon said sadly.

_Ping! _

Blaine yanked his phone out of his pocket. _Yes, anything to take me away from this situation, please! _

_New message from: Kurt_

_I'm in Glee club right now but Mr. Schue's down with the flu. So guess who's substituting? MISS MCCAULEY. She made us sing Christmas carols. And it's February. So Santana claimed this was bullshit, ripped up the sheet music and now it's a confetti party. And oh, Puck is making a petition to stop teachers from sticking burnt toast in their armpits. Wanna sign it? _

Blaine's anger ebbed away as he read the jovial text. A smile tugged at his lips. Kurt always knew how to cheer him up.

"Is that Hummel?" Devon nodded at Blaine's phone.

Blaine jumped. "Wha? Oh yeah… why?" he scowled again. "Do you want to try and squeeze his vocal chords or something? I'll never forgive you for your attempt, by the way."

Devon held his palms up. "I know, I know. And this won't help, but I'm sorry. And Blaine… just- just keep him close, okay? Plus he has got a good fashion sense. Though he probably won't appreciate my attire right now."

"You don't say," Blaine drawled, rolling his eyes. "And of course I'm keeping Kurt close. I _live _with him, smartass."

A spark of hopefulness glinted in Devon's blank eyes. "So… so you're not moving to Illinois?"

"No," Blaine shook his head slowly. "Lima's my home. I couldn't bear to leave the few that I love. And you're not one of them, so don't go looking at me like that."

The spark fizzled out, and Devon was left looking half-dead again. "I don't blame you, kid, I don't blame you."

Blaine nodded curtly, then he grabbed his crutches. "I'm leaving now, okay?"

"Wait!" Devon pressed a hand to the glass.

"What do you want?" Blaine barked.

"Can you… can you please visit me some other time? Please?"

Blaine pursed his lips, peering at the man who hurt him for so many years, now ashamed locked-up and helpless. Finally he sighed, "I'll… I'll see."

A small smile tugged on Devon's lips. "Now son, you should go home to your _new _family."

"I should." With that, Blaine hooked the phone back on the wall and hoisted himself up. He hobbled up to the exit with lighter feet than usual, as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

**(A/N) **There are a few more chapters left, but not over five I think, and then this fanfic is ending. But fear not, I'm planning my next one which is based on a famous classical book. Can anybody guess what it is? Hint: "Please, sir, I want some more." (That isn't too easy, is it?)


	22. Last Encounter

**Chapter 22**

**Last Encounter**

"Remember the first time we came here together, and I told you I was late because I lost my favorite bowtie?"

"How could I forget? That was our first date."

"Well… I actually spent 10 minutes cleaning, um, cleaning a… a wound. I wish I had told you about all _that_ earlier…"

"Oh Blaine, you were scared, and I don't blame you for that."

"Yeah… thanks."

"Let's just- let's just forget about that, and the Warblers too- and enjoy our date. It's Valentine's Day! No need for all the doom and gloom."

Blaine suddenly grabbed Kurt's hand from across the table. "I love you, Kurt,"

Kurt smiled and squeezed Blaine's fingers. "I love you too."

* * *

"I'm just gonna use the bathroom," Blaine said when they had finished their dinner and paid, standing up and stretching.

"Okay, I'll wait in the car," Kurt nodded.

"Right, I'll meet you there."

Kurt weaved through the tables to the exit and headed out into the cool evening air. As he walked through the car park he focused on not slipping on the melting slush and ruining his jeans. He tried to think about how perfect this date was, with him and Blaine laughing the night away. He attempted to look forward to a movie marathon in his room, where they'd most likely end up throwing popcorn at each other. He tried, he really did, but he couldn't stop remembering the fight with the Warblers the last time he was here. The stale stench of cigarettes that always seemed to linger in that car park didn't help either.

A pair of footsteps fell into synchronization behind Kurt's. He turned around eagerly, hoping it was Blaine. Immediately, a hand grabbed

Kurt's collar and smashed him into the side of the building.

"Oof!" Kurt gasped, his head spinning. "What the-?"

"Hush," a man's voice hissed. The person's other hand clamped down onto Kurt's mouth.

"Mmf!" Kurt tried to break away, but the man's grip was like steel. Somewhere along the wall was a curtained window looking into Breadstix, but some light managed to escape. So Kurt squinted at his captor in this dim lighting, and could make out that his face looked like a… meerkat?

"So, we meet again, Barbie," said the man, chuckling lowly.

Kurt's eyes widened in realization.

"Ah, I see you remember me, huh?" Sebastian sneered. "Well I certainly remember _you_..."

Kurt came to his senses and tried to wrench away as hard as he could.

"Don't do that, I have a-" Sebastian took his hand away from Kurt's mouth and reached into his blazer pocket.

"Help!" Kurt yelped loudly with the little breath he had.

"-_knife,_" Sebastian finished, pressing the cold blade to Kurt's neck.

He froze, not daring to move. Even one little twitch would probably get that sharp metal into his flesh.

"That's right," Sebastian smirked. "Now if you try to run away, or speak, or do _anything, _I'll be spilling some blood. And the Warblers are hanging out in an alleyway close to here, so if you try kicking my groin again, the fight won't be one-on-one. Hear me?"

Kurt was trembling. "B- Blaine's gonna-"

"Blaine's gonna nothing," Sebastian growled. "And I said _don't speak!_" he suddenly slapped Kurt hard across the face to emphasize his order.

Kurt blinked rapidly, his cheek burning. "Wha…? What do you _want_ from me?"

Sebastian took Kurt's collar and slammed him against the wall again. "Nothing much," he said casually. "And what did I say about not opening your mouth, you little bitch?" His hand moved down and pulled at Kurt's shirt so hard the seams snapped, buttons popped, and it fell to the floor in a ripped heap.

Kurt gasped, the cold hitting his skin like icicles. He shivered more than ever, wrapping his arms around himself, feeling scared and exposed. "Please, don't," he begged.

Sebastian crashed his lips into Kurt's to shut him up, his tongue slimy, teeth colliding painfully. Kurt, shocked, tried to turn his head away in protest. Sebastian's hand grabbed a hunk of his hair, pulling it out of its perfect coif, and yanked on it painfully to pull him back. Kurt grew more frightened as the blade dug into his hip, and tears stung his eyes and leaked down his cheeks as he grew more horrifyingly aware of the situation.

_Please, Blaine, where are you…? _Kurt choked on a sob.

"You are _such _a baby," Sebastian growled as he dug his fingernails into Kurt's shoulder blades, roughly dragged him around and smashed him against the wall. "Aren't you?"

"Please…" Kurt whispered in agony, as he felt Sebastian's heat against his back and a hand snaking around his waist, undoing the clasp of his belt.

"That's right, beg for me." Sebastian's hot, moist breath on Kurt's neck reeked of cigarettes.

Kurt clawed at the wall in distress, feeling like an animal trapped in a cramped, filthy cage with no other than its predator. And he couldn't escape. Sebastian's bulge pressing against his backside, his fingernails clawing painfully at his skin, the knife digging into his hip, the unintelligible words he whispered into Kurt's ear- it made him feel so revolted, and all he wanted right now was to scrub his skin off.

"Kurt?" a voice sounded in the distance as Kurt's belt thudded to the floor. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt breathless. "Kurt, is that y- hey! HEY! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Shit," Sebastian swore. The knife pressed deeper into Kurt's hip. "Don't move or Barbie gets it!"

"LET GO OF HIM YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Blaine yelled from behind.

_He came! I'm saved! _Kurt thought in relief, starting to hiccup uncontrollably.

"Now you don't want to get hurt as well, do ya?" another voice came as well as multiple footsteps. The Warblers.

"Not on my watch!" Blaine shouted, followed by a sickening _crunch. _

The nauseating heat on Kurt's back was gone. His teeth chattered violently as the sudden icy air stung the nicks on his skin. He just wanted to get away, go anywhere but there, quick. Kurt stumbled blindly, but he tripped on Sebastian's unconscious body and fell to the floor. All around him were yells, crashes, thuds and thumps; noises of a fight. Kurt's mind was fuzzy- he wanted to help, he really did, but right now the toxic horridness of the past moment was seeping into his skin like the slush, making him only able to curl up, close his eyes and wish for everything to be over.

"There they are!" a new voice appeared. "I saw everything from the window!"

"God _damn_," Hunter swore.

"You're under arrest!" a burly voice shouted.

"Yes, thank you, thank you!" Blaine groaned. He dropped to his knees next to Kurt. "Oh my God… somebody get an ambulance!"

Kurt's shivering ceased as Blaine wrapped his jacket around the boy's shoulders and pulled him close. Kurt nuzzled into Blaine's chest, gasping with sobs, yearning for more of _his _heat and nobody else's. Blaine stroked his ruined hair and whispered comforts into his ear, trying to remain calm. But his insides had gone up in flames. Sebastian had hurt his baby. He had scarred Kurt's soft, soft skin. He had ripped his shirt and ruined his hair. He had made him cry. He had attempted to _rape _him, for God's sake!

Blaine watched the handcuffed Warblers skulk away with scowls on their faces, policemen herding them into their cars, the waiter who had seen everything unfold from the window now burbling on the phone for an ambulance. Blaine kept himself sane with a single thought: he and Kurt were _never_ going to see the Warblers from now on.

**(A/N) **Darkangel1909 guessed right! My next fanfic's going to be based on Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist. With a twist. Pun intended. By the way, Cat FINALLY got a fanfiction account: LaurenSimpson. She's a huge gleek, but right now she's starting easy with Disney. Go check out her fanfic for the heck of it.


	23. Safe and Sound

**Chapter 23**

**Safe and Sound**

Hot water rushed from the shower-head and swirled down the drain, the steam misting up the bathroom mirror. His father was going to kill him when he saw the water bill- he'd been in there for _ages._ Kurt didn't care. He just needed some time alone. With a long, heavy sigh, he scrubbed his skin hard with the loofa. It was no use; he'd probably taken off his first layer of skin already. Whatever. Anything to get Sebastian's cooties off of him.

It had been a week since that awful incident. The Warblers were arrested and charged, and if the police hadn't done a little sniffing around and found out their past crimes, they wouldn't have been in jail for _that _long. Kurt tried to find peace in that fact, but the memories were too much. The cold night air against his bare skin, the awful wandering hands, fingernails scratching at his back, the knife digging into his hip-

Kurt leaned his head against the shower wall, tears leaking down his face. Every single day he held in those tears just for the sake of his family and friends. They tried so hard to make him happy, and Kurt couldn't appreciate it more. He laughed at Burt's witty jokes and rolled his eyes at Finn's lame ones, he sang with the Glee club and hung out with them just like the usual. He kept a smile through it all, but when he was alone… his bottled-up emotions forced their way out. He just couldn't take it anymore.

_Bang bang bang._ "Kurt!" called Blaine from behind the bathroom door. "Are you done?"

Kurt gulped down the lump in his throat and hastily turned off the shower. "Y-Yeah," he said shakily, grabbing a towel.

"Hurry up." Blaine gave an exaggerated groan. "My bladder's gonna give labor!"

Kurt almost cracked a smile. It's been about two days since Blaine had moved in with the Hudson-Hummels, and if it were even possible, he made the house more lively than it already was. Burt had a companion to watch baseball games with, Carol had a cooking assistant (laugh, I dare you) and Finn finally got help on his homework. Blaine was the person Kurt could talk to about anything and be truly at ease with. Plus, he let Kurt style his hair. But that wasn't the point. Blaine was most importantly Kurt's medicine on his road of recovery. And vice-versa too.

"Quick! I think it's triplets!" Blaine whined.

Kurt buttoned up his shirt, glad the mirror was misted up so he couldn't see those scrapes that held so many dreadful remembrances.

"Alright, I'm coming, I'm coming!" he called, shaking his head.

"That's right baby, come for me!"

"Blaine, you're so inappropriate!" There was a small smile on Kurt's lips.

"Pissing my pants in the hallway is inappropriate, don't you think?"

"Next time I go shopping I'm getting you diapers," Kurt sighed, unlocking the bathroom door.

He knew Blaine didn't _really _need the loo. He just wanted an excuse to stop Kurt dwelling on his thoughts.

* * *

"Are those the last of the dishes?" Blaine asked, stacking a plate away.

"Yep. Thanks honey," Carol said as she wrung the wet dishtowel.

"No problem, Caroline," Blaine smirked.

Carol hit him playfully with the towel. "Call me that again and I'll get Kurt to straighten your hair."

"Oh dear God no!" Blaine touched his curls self-consciously, which he'd been letting loose out of its hair gel prison since the accident. He wasn't following his dad's orders anymore. Then he frowned- Kurt. "I- I should check up on him, shouldn't I?"

"You should." Carol's smile turned into a sad one.

So Blaine limped up the stairs, gripping the banister with both hands. He'd gotten his cast off before leaving the hospital, but his ankle still hurt like a bitch. Kurt usually helped him walk around the house to contribute to the healing process, but he had gone to bed early. Everyone perfectly knew well that he wanted to be alone. But now _Blaine _was going to be the one to help Kurt heal.

Blaine took a step in Kurt's bedroom. It smelt like cologne and hairspray. The lights were off, but the light of the moon and from cars passing by peeked in from a crack in the curtain. Faint sniffling could be heard from the far end of the room.

"Kurt?" Blaine whispered. He let his eyes adjust to the dark before taking wobbly steps to the bed. The sniffing abruptly stopped. "Kurt, it's only me," he whispered again.

Kurt hastily wiped his face with a sleeve. "What are you _doing _here?" he hissed, sitting up abruptly.

Blaine held his palms up. "Checking up on you, that's all."

"I'm _fine,_" Kurt spat.

"You don't sound very fine."

Kurt bitterly slipped back down the sheets and turned his back on Blaine, who sighed and sat down on the bed.

"Can I just stay here for a bit? Please?" Blaine whispered in a pleading tone.

Kurt didn't answer. He stubbornly lay there, arms crossed, not saying a word. Blaine patiently smoothed his hair away from his face, and after a while Kurt began to sniff again.

"W-Why?" he whispered brokenly. "Why me?"

Blaine slid down carefully and wrapped an arm around the shaking boy. Kurt became tense, but when he remembered who was holding him he gripped Blaine's arm tight, as if never wanting to let it go, and broke down. With every sob and shudder Blaine's heart broke and broke until there was nothing left but white-hot anger. He wanted to march over to prison and tear Sebastian's lungs out, but he couldn't bear to leave Kurt's side. Like, ever.

"Ssh…" Blaine hushed, swallowing hard. _Temper down, temper down, temper down…_

"Don't leave," Kurt gasped, turning around and burying his head in Blaine's chest. He took deep breaths of his fresh, familiar scent, trying to calm himself down.

"I won't babe, I promise," Blaine kissed the top of Kurt's head and held him tight.

The two boys laid there in the dark. Both broken, but when together, they joined up like two pieces of a broken heart. Not yet healed, but for now… safe and sound.

**(A/N) **Smut in chapter 26. DOOON'T STOP BELIEEEEEVIN!


	24. Just Can't Get Enough

**Chapter 24**

**Just Can't get Enough**

Going back to school was a surreal blur. A brightly colored banner was strung across the hallway, screaming the words, 'Welcome back, Blaine!' Voices ranging from familiar to unrecognizable greeted him animatedly. Hands clapped him graciously on the back. Fingers were being pointed and mouths whispered, "That's him." Some faces were happy. Some glad. Some sympathetic. But most of all, everybody wore a look of clear understanding- now they knew what he had been going through, why he had been acting the way he was. And no grudges were being held.

Blaine drifted along in a dreamlike state, wondering if he was hallucinating. Kurt's hand around his felt real enough. The shouting and cheering sounded real enough. The posters and banners looked real enough. Yet, Blaine himself felt like a ghost. They were welcoming… _him? _The guy who made fun of freshman Rufus because his voice was weird? The guy who dumped the chess club members into trashcans because they were just too lame? The guy who walked through McKinley with his head held high because hey, he was the shit and nobody dared say otherwise? Yep, _him._

"What's up?" Kurt's voice almost tugged him to reality. Almost.

"Huh?" Blaine realized he had been squeezing Kurt's hand too hard, and let it go with a sigh. "No. Nothing."

Kurt's deep blue eyes comprehended him. "Do you want to sit somewhere quieter? The library? I could get your assignments and stuff…"

"All these people, Kurt," Blaine whispered, eyeing a 'stay strong, dude!' poster on the news board. "I never even knew them, and if I did I made their lives miserable- and they did all this for _me?_"

Kurt understood him immediately. "You're not the same person you were a few months ago anymore, Blaine. Did you know that?"

* * *

"Well guys, I've had a very tough decision to make lately."

The Glee club sat on their chairs in their usual nonchalant manner, but looked at Blaine with a new light of respect in their eyes- and vice versa.

"But I chose Lima over Illinois." Blaine smiled shakily at the grateful applause. There was a lot of that to go around already. "Also, Mr. Figgins and Sue gave me a choice of the Glee club or the Cheerios. I think you can guess where I chose to stay."

With every clap and cheer Blaine grew more and more guilty. With the way he treated The New Directions he would've expected tomatoes thrown at him. Then he remembered Kurt's words and straightened up as much as his tired limbs would let him.

"Listen, I know I've been a jerk for most of the time I've been in this room, but-" he swallowed at the sudden silence, throat dry. "But I'm not like that now. I promise. And as much as it makes me feel awkward to do this but… Sugar, I'm sorry I made fun of your voice. And you and Artie make a really good couple."

Sugar squeaked and grabbed Artie's hand, who looked at the ground bashfully.

"Rachel, don't let my insults stand in the way of your ambition, okay? I can't promise you this but you won't be hearing as much from now on."

Rachel beamed.

"Tina, it's great that you a have a unique sense of style. I won't even scorn your eyeshadow, horrible as it i- sorry. And to be honest you should stop giving Mike such a hard time; he has pride in his Chinese-ness. You should be proud too."

"Asian, but whatever," Mike muttered.

Tina looked mad for a second, but then her expression turned to guilt. She whispered to Mike, who shot Blaine a thankful nod.

It was difficult and awkward as hell, but as Blaine apologized to each and every member of the Glee club he felt a sense of goodness and wellbeing in what he was doing. But don't expect to him to grow feathery white wings and a golden halo. Once sarcastic, always sarcastic.

"Finally, Mr. Schue, just to assure you I'm not freaked out by you anymore. I know you're not a pedophile. You're a fatherly figure and that's what I like best about you." Blaine ducked his head and stared at his shoes, his fists clenching, trying to regain his breath. Eventually he looked up and continued, "And your hair doesn't look like meat casserole. I promise."

Mr. Schuester smiled at him gently, his green eyes kind and thoughtful. "In this family, Blaine, nobody gets left out."

Blaine returned the smile gratefully. "Now, how about a big family hug, huh Mr. Schue? Everybody?" he furtively reached behind him for the slushie cup placed on top of the piano.

The Glee club murmured words of agreement, taking out their own slushie cups from under their chairs.

"Come on guys," Mr. Schuester gestured for everyone to come forward. Then the smile melted away from his face. "Uh, guys…?"

The New Directions crept up towards their coach with sinister grins and cups full to the brim.

"But this is my new sweater vest!"

Mr. Schuester received a family hug all right. A nice, ice cold family hug that froze him from head to toe.

* * *

"And then he was like- _but this is my new sweater vest!_" Blaine squealed and held his palms up in a girly fashion. "And then we were like- _do you think we _care_, sucker? _Goodbye Mr. Schue's hideous thriftshop purchase."

Kurt chuckled, shaking his head as he scribbled in his exercise book. "I can't believe you convinced us to do that! After all he had done for us." He fake-tutted.

"Well, his vest _was_ kinda ugly…"

"Blaine, you're so mean!"

"Hey," Blaine lightly poked Kurt's side. "That was the me a few months ago, remember?"

Kurt slapped his hand away with his book. "Well he's coming back. And don't poke me, it tickles."

"Ah," a smirk appeared on Blaine's lips. "I see you're _ticklish._"

"Oh no you're not," Kurt warned. "I need to do my work."

Blaine ignored this piece of information, reached out and slyly prodded Kurt's side again.

He squeaked and inched away. "Leave me alone," he cautioned, drawing his knees up protectively.

"Too bad."

Blaine gave Kurt no mercy. He tickled him until he was squirming on the floor, laughing so hard tears were streaming down his flushed cheeks.

"You like that? You like that, don't'cha?" Blaine grinned.

"Stop!" Kurt squealed, pawing at Blaine's hands. "Pleeeease!"

Out of the blue, Blaine bent down and kissed him affectionately, feeling Kurt's tense body start to relax. In Blaine's fuzzy head he vaguely recalled the day he and Kurt got the beating of their lifetime. But he pushed those thoughts away and remembered the intense moments before: when the room was dark, the sofa cozy, the pillows and blankets snug, Kurt's body heat against his so _enticing. _

Blaine just couldn't get enough. He wanted more. And when he wanted something, he got it.

"Hey Kurt?" Blaine muttered, leaning back a bit. "Our Glee assignment was 'comfortable', right?"

"Uh huh," Kurt answered breathlessly. "…What's that smirk on your face for? Are you going to tickle me again?"

"I just know _exactly_ what song I'm going to sing next week…"

**(A/N) **Sorry for the extremely late update. Exams are next week and I've got so much stuff to study.


	25. Closer

**Chapter 25**

**Closer**

"These are your test results you missed from February."

Blaine tried not to wrinkle his nose from the smell of burnt toast as Miss McCauley swept by, dropping a paper onto his desk. His hands automatically darted forward and grabbed it, his eyes searching beadily for the bright red pen that represented his grade.

There it was. It wasn't even a B this time.

_Fuck fuck fuck, _Blaine grew uncontrollably panicked. _My dad is gonna-_

Oh wait… He exhaled, feeling himself deflate with relief. His dad was locked up behind bars, within concrete walls, countless of guards and security systems. Blaine would like to see _him _do anything about his C now.

Sucker.

* * *

"Someone's pretty restless," Kurt remarked.

"Huh?" Blaine looked down at his crossing and uncrossing legs and wringing hands. He stopped immediately. "Me? Well…"

An impish look momentarily crossed Blaine's face before he began his fidgeting again. Kurt knew that smirk, that glint in his eyes. He saw that look last week before Blaine and the Glee club sent Mr. Schue to slushie central.

Kurt tilted his head. "You know, you never told me what song you're going to sing."

Blaine started, but then relaxed again. "Oh, right, my song?" he said with an exaggerated air of offhandedness. "It'll blow your mind."

Yep. Blaine was up to something.

Santana turned around in her chair to face them, an evil grin on her face. "It'll blow your whistle too, if you get my fling."

Kurt blinked. "What the-"

"Don't listen to her," Blaine said, shooting daggers at Santana. She looked like she was going to say more, but he silenced her with a hissed, "_don't!_"

"Whatever you say, Gay Anderson," Santana drawled, turning her back to them.

Yep. Blaine was _definitely _up to something.

Mr. Schuester's arrival immediately followed up with the question as to who's going first. Rachel, of course, sauntered to the front of the choir room immediately. She explained over-enthusiastically how her song was about being comfortable in your own skin and that Barbra Streisand inspired her to sing it. When she was done, Blaine couldn't even remember the title of the song. Heck, _all _of the Glee club members' performances went over his head. His sarcastic remarks were surprisingly limited. Um… what?

Kurt flopped back to his seat after his song and nudged the boy next to him. "You're up."

Blaine started. "Oh! Oh, ok, ok." He stood up shakily.

Mr. Schuester looked at his watch. "You might want to hurry up, Blaine. The bell's going to ring in a few minutes."

"Alright, so…" Blaine stood at the front of the choir room, feeling nervous. Obviously, it wasn't something he was used to. "My song is about being comfortable in a relationship, and trying new things with your partner and stuff like that, so… yeah."

Kurt couldn't help but smile. That was really sweet.

_Okay, _Blaine thought, hiding his shaking hands behind his back. _The worst that's going to happen is that_ _I'm either going to fuck this up, or manage to scrape by; and Kurt's either going to be disgusted, or horribly surprised. Well you know what, screw it. I'm doing this. _

He took one deep, readying breath. "_All I wanna get is, a little bit closer. All I wanna know is, can you come a little closer?_"

Kurt's mouth dropped open. He closed it quickly, heat rising to his cheeks. Being comfortable in a relationship? Trying new things with your partner? Kurt should've known Blaine was going to sing _this. _

"_Here's comes the breath, before we get, a little bit closer,_" Blaine saw Kurt's embarrassed face from the corner of his eye. He felt panicked, yet relieved that Kurt didn't look as if he'd like to throw a chair at him. "_Here comes the rush, before we touch, come a little closer._" Blaine didn't know if he should stop singing- it was too late now, and the Glee club seemed to be enjoying his performance.

"I didn't know he was going to do this, I swear!" Kurt hissed at Rachel, who was hiding her giggles behind her hand.

Santana turned around again and smirked, "Someone's getting laid tonight, huh?"

"How subtle can you get?" Kurt said through clenched teeth.

"A dolla make me holla, honey boo boo child!" Brittany exclaimed, snapping her fingers to the beat of Blaine's song.

"Brit, how is that relevant?" Santana asked disdainfully.

"I dunno, I saw it in that magical box they call a TV and wanted to use it ever since."

"…Good for you."

"_It's not just all physical. I'm the type who won't get oh so critical._" As Blaine launched into the chorus, everyone began clapping on to the rhythm. All except Kurt, of course. Blaine met his eye, but instead of being greeted with a death glare, Kurt averted his gaze reservedly. "_So let's make things physical-_" A handful of members whooped. Blaine relaxed a little knowing they were urging him on. "_I won't treat you like you're oh so typical._"

"_Oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh,_" The girls harmonized.

"_I won't treat you like you're oh so typical._"

Throughout the second verse, Kurt kept getting nudges and smirks from left and right. He sank into his chair, his face so hot he felt like there was a heat wave coming on. He grew more and more anxious as Blaine grew more and more comfortable with his performance. Sure, the assignment was about being comfortable with just about anything you like, but… why Closer? In a way it _did _fit with the topic, but was Blaine singing it for another reason?

_Oh my God. _Suddenly, Kurt wanted to face-palm himself repeatedly. Why didn't he pick up on this before? _Maybe Blaine really DOES want to take it one step further- and is showing it through this week's assignment? DUH!_

By now the Glee club was singing along. _"I want you close, I want you. I won't treat you like a typical. I want you close, I want you. I won't treat you like a typical."_

Mercedes plopped down in Blaine's seat. "Lighten up, sugar!"

"Mercedes," Kurt said desperately, grabbing onto her arm.

"Whoa nelly."

"It's just that I think Blaine wants to take our relationship to a whole new level and I don't know if I'm ready or not!"

"Mhm." Mercedes paused, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Look, I'm not the best at giving love advice but I guess the best you could do is when you two get home, take a moment to talk about it. Decide if now is the best time to do it or not, and if _both _of you are ready. Got it?"

Kurt sighed, sitting up straighter in his seat. "Sounds good to me, I guess."

"And Kurt… have you ever had any sex ed… for like, the gays?"

"If that includes my dad handing me a bunch of leaflets on the topic, then yes." Kurt cringed at the memory.

"At least your dad tried."

"Tried was a really good word to use."

"I know."

Kurt felt a lot less tense after that, and when the song finished and the room was filled with applause and the screeching bell, he gave Blaine a nod and a small smile. He had never seen someone look so reassured in his entire life.

**(A/N) **Yes I'm still alive. Sorry for the month-long wait, guys. Revision and exams really hated my fanfiction. At least I've got time to update now that it's summer, so don't expect me to keep you waiting THAAAT long. (The three A's were necessary.) Oh, and Ramadan Kareem to whoever's celebrating it!


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